The Minstrel's Path
by Negaduck
Summary: Where did the mysterious, magical, mystical Cantus come from? Why does he travel the rock with his fellow Minstrels, uniting the people he meets with music? What, in a nutshell, is up with that guy?
1. Chapter 1

**The Minstrel's Path  
Part 1**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

"This will be your first real test. Are you sure you want to go through with it?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Tunesmith, to his credit, did not shrug, shake his head, or in any other way show his opinion of Jago, one of his pupils. The boy was gifted, but in dire need of discipline. He spent more time dreaming than practicing, and he never could settle on one instrument. If he could just learn to focus he could become a great musician. He was young; he had time to learn. But the earlier he began to take music seriously the better.

The two Fraggles walked from Tunesmith's cave and down one of the passages leading away from the colony. There were dangers out here; unstable caves and hungry creatures and territorial plants and, supposedly, a ghost. Tunesmith did not believe in ghosts, but so many Fraggles claimed to have heard a voice whispering out of nowhere that now everybody believed that these caves were haunted. Jago didn't seem worried. Either he didn't believe the rumors or, more likely, simply wasn't thinking about them.

* * *

The two Fraggles reached a small hole in the tunnel. A low moaning came from the darkness within. Tunesmith gestured toward the hole. Jago looked at him in surprise, then peered in. He turned his head, listening. Then he asked, "What should I do?"

"Spend the night here, in the Piping Cave. Tomorrow, tell me what you have learned."

"What am I supposed to learn here?"

"You tell me."

Jago looked into the cave again. All he could hear was the low moaning of wind passing through long tunnels. It blew against his face, ruffling his flower-colored hair. He stepped in. As his eyes adjusted he could see more of his surroundings. He was in a large room with many tunnels of various sizes leading out on the opposite side. Fresh air seemed to be blowing evenly from all of them, making the room breezy and pleasant. After listening for a minute, he began to sing along with it. He used no words, only the sounds that came to him.

The cave began to lighten in response to his song. Tunesmith smiled. Fraggle song brightened the caves, not only figuratively. Jago began wandering within the cave, his teacher forgotten. Tunesmith turned to go back to the colony.

Jago wandered within the Piping Cave. The wind blowing in through the tunnels—there were seven of them—was steady and gentle, and, he soon realized, each tunnel's sound was different. The smallest tunnel played a high, whishing sound. The largest one had a much lower tone, the moan he had heard first. The other tunnels made sounds in between. As he walked around the cave he noticed that he heard different tones depending on where he stood within it.

He paced and listened. He felt as if the wind was blowing through him. As if he was an instrument rather than the player of one. It was a pleasant, even exciting sensation. After he had walked around the cave long enough to understand its sounds and their sources, he began to sing softly.

"Music flows through the coves,  
Wind and stone sing together as one.  
Echoing as you sing,  
Let me hear your song..."

Something was listening.

* * *

He sang, entreating the cave to share its secrets with him, until he felt he had said enough. Standing to one side, out of the main flow of air, he listened to the chord of the seven tunnels. It was pleasant, if a little monotonous. Looking around the cave, he realized that it was like the inside of a giant ocarina, with the tunnels acting as the holes...no. You blow in one side of a flute and change its single tone by covering the holes with your fingers. He put his pack down on the ground and began walking, stepping silently, aware of nothing but the sound of the wind. It would change if he stopped up a tunnel, he supposed. To test that he found the smallest tunnel within reach and leaned back against it, blocking the flow of air completely. Sure enough, the chord sounded different...incomplete. He stepped away, and the chord was complete again. Taking away wasn't any good, he thought.

Only one of the tunnels at ground level was large enough for him to enter without stopping it up. He walked a ways into it, then stopped and listened. Once again, the chord was changed. But this time it sounded good. By entering this tunnel he had raised its tone, which in turn changed the song of the cave.

He stood, looking into the cave, seeing little, straining for all he could hear.

* * *

Early the next day the Tunesmith returned to the Piping Cave, hoping that his pupil had fared well. Many found the eerie sounds of the lonely cave frightening. But Jago had not run back to the colony during the night—the Tunesmith had checked his family's cave before coming here—so at least the boy had toughed it out.

Tunesmith looked into the cave. Jago was there, asleep on top of his sleeping bag rather than in it. From the look of it he had simply bedded down without bothering to make a campfire. He shook his head, then patted Jago's shoulder. The boy's breathing caught, and he blinked and looked up. Tunesmith said, "Arise, sleepyhead. I hope sleeping isn't all you've done in here."

"No, not at all," Jago replied. He sat up and stretched hard, then wiggled his fingers to limber them.

"Well then, what have you learned?"

"Well... this cave, it's like the inside of a musical instrument."

"Like an ocarina," the Tunesmith said, nodding.

"No, not really. More like my reed flute, if all the reeds blew into one chamber. I've never seen an instrument like this. Each tunnel makes a different sound, and it changes depending on where you are."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that what you hear depends on where you are, just like anywhere else. The music you make changes as you move. Let me show you." He took out a stringed instrument like a small balalaika and stood up. "Walk with me."

Jago began playing the instrument, singing softly and wordlessly. The wind provided the background chord, and as he moved through the cave he adjusted the song to harmonize with it. Tunesmith was impressed. This was the lesson the cave had to teach, but the boy had gone beyond understanding the mere principle and used it in his own music. And the tune was improvised; he would have recognized a prepared composition. When Jago finished the Tunesmith said, "Very good."

"Thank you. And, this tunnel—if you go into it, you change the sound it makes."

"Yes, like muting a wind instrument," the Tunesmith acknowledged.

Jago continued, becoming more animated, "Just as we hear different things by moving around in the world, we can change what is heard just by being in the right place. The song of the world continues, but we become a part of it rather than using it in our music."

If the Tunesmith had ever doubted that Jago was still a dreamer, this would have laid that question to rest. Trust Jago to turn a practical lesson on music principles into a philosophical matter. Still, there was nothing to say that musicians couldn't be dreamers too. "Have you learned anything else?"

"Not yet."

Patting his student's shoulder approvingly, the Tunesmith said, "Well, you've passed the test. You've done very well, in fact. Let's return."

"I'd rather stay here."

Surprised, the Tunesmith asked, "Why? What do you want to do?"

"I think there's more to it. At the very least, I want to listen some more."

Tunesmith gave him an odd look. Then he said, "If that's what you want to do. Come back when you're ready."

"I will."

Tunesmith left his odd pupil behind. He had the talent to be a master musician, but with his disposition, who knew what he would finally turn out to be.

Unseen, an entity watched the young Fraggle, and was pleased. It said in a voice so low that Jago believed he was hearing his own thoughts, _"Listen."_

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tunesmith is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Minstrel's Path  
Part 2**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

Jago closed his eyes, shutting out the Fraggles who were watching him.

They were still and quiet, waiting for him. He pretended they were not there, that he was alone, with nobody to hear but the beetles that lived in the cave moss. He remembered the soft sound of the wind as it moved through the passages, the cool breeze carrying the scent of water. Thinking of those things, he began to play.

The fingertips of one hand pressed strings of varying thickness against a flat surface that rose up to rest against one shoulder. His other hand plucked the same strings lower down. The humming sound they made was reflected and given depth by the bowl-like body of the instrument, which rested on his lap. In his mind he heard a tune, and followed it as one might travel a new path through the caverns. He let his fingers take care of the minutia of which notes to play, and let them elaborate the theme as they saw fit.

Eventually the path led back home, and the tune came to a close. He opened his eyes again and set down the chordophone, signaling that he was finished. The wood clicked softly against the stone of the cave floor.

"That was beautiful," said a female Fraggle.

"Thank you," Jago replied dutifully.

Tunesmith watched with pride as his pupil gracefully accepted compliments on his playing. He did not desire acclaim for himself; Jago's accomplishments were his own.

Jago had been one of Tunesmith's students since he was small. All Fraggles had some musical talent, but Jago had showed unusual promise almost from the very beginning. He seemed to grasp by instinct what others had to learn. His one persistent flaw had been his unwillingness to focus. Instead of learning to play one instrument well, he had kept switching between many, never sticking with one long enough to learn to play it as well as Tunesmith knew he could. But Jago had been young, and as he had matured he had chosen the chordophone, a respectable, versatile instrument. His hard work was finally paying off.

When the audience left Tunesmith said quietly to Jago, "You have made me proud. You are becoming a fine musician."

"Thank you," Jago answered.

* * *

Jago left, carrying the chordophone in a specially made bag slung across his back. He was glad that he pleased those who listened to him and rewarded Tunesmith for the time and effort he'd devoted to training an often-distracted pupil. Yet he didn't feel a sense of accomplishment or pride. Yes, he knew he played well, but still he felt discontented.

He left the main territory of the colony. There were caves all around it that were rarely used because of their distance from the main colony, but were still close enough that dangerous cave creatures shied away. This cave was a secret favorite of Jago's. A cool breeze flowed through it, carrying with it sounds and scents from caverns further out. Water dripped from stalactite to stalagmite, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Beetles and other creatures chirped and trilled to each other.

Jago smiled as he listened to the sounds. He settled into a comfortable mossy ledge and set his bag on the ground. Playing one instrument only was like singing just one song, he thought. That song might be wonderful, but it still didn't satisfy him. There had to be more to music than limiting yourself so.

He closed the bag and started to rise, then put it down and sat again. There was the sound of water flowing and dripping, the calls of the creatures that shared the cave with him. They were as meaningful as songs Fraggles sang. They told the world what the creatures were doing and how they felt. At the very least they announced 'I am alive and so are you.' The music he had made that day had said nothing; it was only pretty sound. There was nothing of him in it.

No, he told himself. That was not true. He was frustrated, but it wasn't really the music that bothered him. He had to discover what he wanted and seek that out rather than dwelling on what he didn't like.

He closed his eyes, relaxed, and took a deep breath. When he exhaled he let go of his frustration. In the quiet that left him he was again conscious of the air flowing and traveling, ruffling his hair. He imagined that it carried messages from the far reaches of the caves, and he could understand them if he learned the language of the wind. He sat and listened, letting the sounds come to him and thinking nothing.

After a while he began to doze off. Before he fell asleep he thought he heard a reed instrument playing in the distance.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tunesmith is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Minstrel's Path  
Part 3**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was the day of the summer solstice. This was the longest day of the year, the day the world stood still for just a moment before turning back on its path. It was the pivot of summer, which was the center of the year.

Summers were rich and mellow. Flowers bloomed, the vines that festooned the Fraggles' caves were fruiting, and tasty morels grew everywhere the Fraggles searched. And, of course, it was the breeding season for many of the caves' inhabitants, including Fraggles.

All of this added up to a big celebration on this day. Everyone contributed their own special talents. Many gathered food and cooked their best dishes for the colony. Some composed songs, or danced, or told stories, or did special swimming stunts. Children gathered flowers and pretty stones and decorated the Deep Gallery. And, of course, the musicians played for everybody.

The core of the musicians was comprised of Tunesmith, who led the music on a wooden flute; Jago, on his chordophone; and Cheel on drums and percussion board. Other Fraggles joined in on their own instruments as the spirit moved them. Anyone who wished to sang.

Tunesmith brought the piece they had been playing to a close and said lightly to Jago and Cheel, "Enough."

The two nodded, and Jago agreed, "Enough." They had been playing for over an hour, and now they could put down their instruments and enjoy the day with everybody else. Cheel packed away her instruments—she had just made them, and was rather possessive of them—and then slid into the stream that ran through the gallery. Tunesmith went to get some food. Jago, who had been singing, stuck his head under the small waterfall at the head of the stream and drank from the splashing water.

* * *

As the day progressed Jago ate, and swam, and played music on a more informal basis, and accepted an invitation from a friend for a private celebration of the day. By the end of that he was sated, but the day was far from over. He put his chordophone in its bag and headed out.

He let his feet lead him away from the center of the colony, humming as he walked. When he was far away enough that he revelry was audible only as indistinct echoes, he opened his bag and reached under the chordophone. He drew out a bamboo traverse flute and, as he walked, began playing a simple, lively tune that popped into his head.

He made his way to a peaceful cavelet that he often visited when he wanted to be alone, to play music or meditate or just relax. Listening to the wind that blew through the cave, he began again, this time with a single soft, breathy note on his flute, which formed a chord with the sound of the breeze. He picked up the sounds of the insects chirping nearby and wove a tune around them.

He was smiling when he lowered the flute from his mouth. The cave was brighter now. It often was after he had played a tune. There were things in the air that fed on music, and they lit the caves. They were too small to see unless they gathered in great concentrations, if they actually did that; he had only heard of that happening in stories.

He put the flute back in the bag and took out another instrument. It was made of curved metal, a rare substance among Fraggles. If you grasped one end between your teeth and twanged the other end it made a plunking tone, which you could vary with the shape of your mouth. He played a comical tune around the rhythm of the water dripping from stalactite to stalagmite.

* * *

He put a set of reeds of different lengths, fastened together in order of length and thus of pitch, back in his bag. His heart felt lighter now. For Tunesmith and the colony he played the chordophone, and played it well. To please himself, he went off and played other instruments. Once he found a colony of humming rumblebugs, and had joined in their song. That was the most fun he had had in many, many days.

It was a good balance, he thought. He gave his colony what it wanted, and played for his own amusement at other times. He could be content with that. He leaned back to rest, and closed his eyes.

_Listen._

His eyes popped open. He thought that the word had been spoken right next to his ear, but there was nobody there. This was not the first time that had happened. He supposed, as he always did, that he had imagined it. After all, he often came here to listen to the quiet sounds of the cave. They gave him a feeling of peace that he could not find in the colony, and sometimes he found inspirations for new tunes in the chance combinations of chirps, whooshes, trills, and drips.

But this time he heard music. At first he thought a trick of the wind was bringing it to him from the colony. But it didn't sound like the Fraggle music he knew, and it was coming from the wrong direction. He peered out the back of the cavelet. The sound was coming from farther out.

Who could be making that music? It was eerie—no, not eerie; it was unearthly without being frightening. He had never heard anything like it. He picked up his bag and followed the sound.

He traveled some distance. The strange music sounded clearer but no closer. He looked back uneasily. He could still see the cave he had just come from. But he did not know the caves this far from the colony. The music was still some distance away, and while he could find it easily, he might not be able to find his way back. And there could be dangerous creatures who would not pass up the opportunity for an easy meal, should one come wandering near their lairs.

Still, that music…Jago could not bear to give it up just yet. He stood, his bag in his hands, his eyes on the path he had come, but all his attention on the tune that floated hauntingly out of the depths of the tunnels.

But he had to make a choice. He could not risk it. Regretfully he turned away from the music and walked back to his colony. After he was gone, the music faded away.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tunesmith and Cheel are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com), as is the overall story. Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Minstrel's Path  
Part 4**  
by Kim McFarland

* * *

The caves were lovely, dark and deep. The unexplored outer caverns possessed an aura of mystery. Sometimes they revealed new plants or creatures or unexpected cave formations.

Jago held his lantern up to the cave wall. It was covered with flowstone fluting, as if heavy curtains had been hung from the ceiling. This close to the ground the 'folds' stood well out from the wall. Jago tapped one with the end of his walking stick. It rang like a xylophone. He smiled. He took a piece of cloth out of his backpack and folded it, then tied it around the end of his stick. Then he started tapping the flowstone again. Different parts of the formation gave different tones, depending on the shape and thickness of the rock. The notes were not neatly lined up as they would be on a Fraggle-made instrument, but that only added to its spice. Jago played it, letting its quirks lead the tune.

After a while he took a map out of his pack and made a quick note. Tunesmith might or might not be interested in a cave that played music, and he certainly wouldn't travel this far from the colony, but Jago would return.

He had originally planned to push on farther, but he changed his mind. This was the right place. He sat down on a smooth boulder and drew a bamboo traverse flute out of his bag.

He closed his eyes to still his mind, then raised the flute and began to play. Without making a conscious decision he began with the tune he had tapped out on the flowstone. The rich, gentle song of the flute seemed to mix with the breeze and flow with it out of the cave. As he played he listened.

When he finished he lowered the flute. Music was still in the air, and it was not his own. This was what he had hoped for. He put the flute back, picked up his bag and took out a piece of chalk, and went into the passages beyond this cave. He listened at every turn and fork, following the sound, wondering who he would meet. White chalk blaze marks on the cave walls traced his path.

* * *

Fortunately Jago was meticulous about marking his trail, as he followed a long, convoluted path. It was amazing that he had heard the music so far away, he thought; distance had hardly dimmed the sound at all. He entered a large cave that seemed dazzlingly bright after the dim tunnels. Its floor was covered with moss and grasses and small plants; ferns and flowering plants dotted the walls. One side of the room was covered by a jungly vine which grew out of a crack in the ground, surged up the wall, and rose up against the ceiling like a breaking wave. The main stem was thick and pillarlike, and the smaller vines that emerged from it bore light green leaves and blue-and-yellow flowers. He barely noticed them, however. He was looking at what seemed at first to be a stick growing out of the main stem. The music was coming from this.

He sat and listened. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the music. It flowed around him like water, through him like the air he breathed. It felt as nourishing as food, he thought. It was the music that he had wanted to make and never known how.

When the tune faded, Jago emerged from its spell and murmured to himself, "What is it?"

_"It is a magic pipe."_

Jago looked around. He saw nobody else there, yet the words had been spoken right next to him. The invisible speaker continued, _"This pipe will speak the language of all music. It will play all songs, and weave the threads of life together into one cloth with its music. Do you wish to play it?"_

"It plays itself," Jago said. He could not bear the thought of picking it, if that would silence it.

_"Now it plays the song of this cave. To play other songs, it must travel to where they are. It will travel far."_

"Yes," Jago murmured. It needed someone to carry it, to learn new music. There was music to learn elsewhere. He was intrigued.

_"It will take much to play it."_

"What will it take?"

_"Your life."_

Startled, Jago stepped back, away from the vine. The mysterious speaker said, _"Will you take it?"_

"No!"

The mysterious voice did not answer. He hurried out of the cave.

He followed the blaze marks back. Give his life for an instrument? If it killed him, who would play it? Jago was no fool; he would not die for music. He would live for it.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 5  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

A gaggle of Fraggles were climbing down a tunnel so steep it was almost a chimney. Sometimes water slicked the sides of the passage, making it treacherous. Today it was dry, so they could climb down safely.

When they had all made it down, they continued through the lower caves, which were wetter and cooler. Different creatures and plants lived here. The Fraggles spread out. Each had equipment in a backpack and an empty bag at their side. Jago untied the mouth of his bag and put a morel into it.

At this time of year mushrooms were scarce around this Fraggle colony, and the ones that did grow were picked young by hungry Fraggles. Only the occasional foray team traveled this far out, so they could easily find as much food as they could carry back.

This was not the only purpose for their expedition, or even the main one, however. When they had filled their bags—and were munching on more of the tasty fungi—they shouldered their bags and went on.

They were a team of Fraggles who patrolled the caves around the main colony. There were needed resources out here, food and useful plants and minerals and other things. They also made sure that nothing big and hungry got uncomfortably close to the colony. If danger threatened their home, they were the ones to deal with it. The walking sticks they carried could be pulled apart at the middle, revealing sharp points coated with a chemical that would make any creature very sorry it had tangled with them. That didn't happen often, though, as most creatures had learned by now that Fraggles were much more trouble than a meal was worth.

The trickiest part of the journey was the path across a cliff face. There was a ledge there—mostly natural, with the gaps spanned by wooden bridges where the rock was insufficient—but it was not wide enough to walk across comfortably. They went across one at a time, their backs to the cave wall. Jago wished he could leave his bag behind, but if he did its contents would be gone by the time he returned.

Their destination was only a few minutes beyond the end of the cliff. They could hear it before they saw it: a rushing underground river. The water was too fast and rough for typical Fraggle swimming and horseplay, but in the riverbed there were stones that could be found nowhere else. Stones that, when split just right, formed sharp blades, and which could also make sparks when struck with certain metallic crystals.

The Fraggles had brought ropes in their backpacks. To get the stones, the best swimmers would be tethered by ropes to boulders or sturdy stalagmites, and they would dive for them. The rest of the group would sort through the stones, and be ready to pull the divers out by the ropes if the current overpowered them.

They emerged from a side passage into a high-ceilinged cavern through which the river rushed, splashing noisily as the water bounced against various formations. They had all set down their gathering bags and backpacks and started getting the ropes out when one exclaimed, "Look!" and pointed upstream.

The others looked. There were at least a dozen creatures at a narrow point of the river. They were holding onto something that was partly in and partly out of the water. The creatures were dark colored, with thin bodies, round heads, and long, spidery limbs. "What are they doing?"

Another Fraggle said, "They're trying to catch the water."

One of the spidery creatures noticed the Fraggles, and shouted to its brethren. They all turned to stare, and jabbered to each other.

Fraggles are not an aggressive species. They had all they needed to live comfortably in their caves, and did not compete with anything for resources or territory. However, these Fraggles had learned that, to keep the colony safe, the best defense was a good offense. One shouted, "Attack!" The others, having been drilled in this over and over, dropped their encumbrances, pulled their walking sticks apart, and, as a group, rushed forward, screaming fiercely and waving their weapons.

The spiderlike creatures dropped what they were holding and fled. The Fraggles chased them as far as the tunnel they escaped into, then yelled a little longer just to make sure their foe was thoroughly scared off. Then the Fraggles walked back toward the thing that the creatures had been holding in the river. It was woven strings, like a giant hammock, and was tied to boulders on either side of the water. They stared at it, puzzled. One said, "You can't catch water with that. It slips through the holes."

"And it gets fish all tangled up," another remarked with distaste.

"Let's get it out before anything else gets tangled."

"I think they were trying to tangle the fish," Jago said.

Another looked at him in surprise; he was usually quiet on these expeditions. He did his part without talking about it. "What for?"

"Maybe they eat them."

"Ugh! Let's get it out of the water."

Jago hung back while one Fraggle crossed to the other side on a plank bridge set on a close point over the river and used their stone knives to slice through the ropes anchoring it on that side. The Fraggles on the other side pulled the weaving out of the water, detached the fish—most of which were alive—and returned them to the river. One asked, "Should we take this back so they can't do it again?"

Jago said, "Should we _steal_ it from them?"

The others exchanged glances. Jago was known for his odd ideas. The leader of the group said, "We have enough to carry without a bunch of wet string. Leave it. Let's get the stones."

Most of the team went down to their usual place by the side of the river, a wide spot where the current lost its force and dropped rocks it had carried from far upstream. Jago, however, looked at the woven thing. Someone went to a lot of trouble, making all those knots. It had to be important to them. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that they really were trying to tangle the fish. There were animals that ate fish; maybe those people did that too, he thought queasily. Being an herbivore, he found the idea of people eating flesh upsetting. Still, if that was what they had to eat, then they could no more be blamed for it than the carnivores and scavengers that roamed the caves.

He picked up the net and carried it to the mouth of the tunnel where the spider creatures had fled, and left it there.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 6  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Jago was in the cavelet he called his home. It was small, suitable for one Fraggle and his possessions: bedding, clothes, and a few personal items. In Jago's case these were musical instruments. In addition to the chordophone, the instrument he played for the colony, he also had a traverse flute, some small hand drums, a panflute, and a few others that he toyed with as the spirit moved him.

He put his guitar into its bag, then set the panflute on top of it. He lifted the bag to his shoulder and walked out. When he passed through the Deep Gallery Fraggles smiled at him, and he smiled back. Today he had played music for them, and it made them happy.

A storage cave, the pantry for the entire colony, was on the other side. He looked in and saw that it was well enough stocked, but there weren't many mushrooms. There rarely were. Fraggles loved mushrooms most of all, so they were eaten quickly. Jago picked up a cloth bag from a stack near the door.

* * *

Soon he was climbing down a steep tunnel. Fraggles normally didn't travel this far from the colony alone, but he had been going out with the foray teams for over a year and had rarely seen anything that could pose a real threat to him. He was taking a risk, but the danger was not from roaming predators.

He ambled through several caverns. Each offered something different. One had berry bushes. Another grew edible mushrooms. Some had young, crisp fern heads. He put a handful of each into his carrying bag. Just enough for a good meal, should he stay out long enough to need one. He'd gather for the colony on the way back. As he was leaving the cave he noticed a vine that he hadn't seen before. It bore clusters of green spheres. He sniffed at it—it smelled good—then ate one. It was _very _good. He picked a large cluster.

* * *

Jago arrived at the underground river. There was nothing for him to gather here; only a very foolish Fraggle would dive for stones alone in these rapids. Instead he sat on a flat spot, easily visible from a point where the stone banks rose above the river on both sides. He leaned back against a column and closed his eyes.

The stone was pleasantly cool beneath him. Occasionally small bits of spray reached him and clung to his fur or vest like tiny gems. The sound of the water seemed to divide from a continuous rushing noise into many different sounds: the flow of deep water in the center; the splash of water at the top that caromed from side to side and flew into the air; the eddies' burbling. The air was pleasantly humid, good to breathe.

Without opening his eyes and breaking the spell Jago reached into one of his bags and brought out his chordophone. He crossed his legs and set the round end in his lap, and rested the neck against his shoulder. Then he began to play a soft, wandering tune to accompany the song of the water.

Some time later he heard voices. His heart began to beat faster, but he stayed where he was, eyes closed, playing his music. He segued into a common tune played at Fraggle gatherings, as he was now listening to the voices rather than the water.

He could not understand what they were saying. Even over the sound of the water and the cave's echoes he would have been able to make out the occasional word or phrase if they were Fraggles. They were speaking a different language. There was a sharp bark, and then silence. Jago opened his eyes and saw a cluster of spidery creatures staring at him from the edge of the river.

Jago stayed where he was, still playing the chordophone, trying not to look afraid. He had not brought his walking stick or any other weapon. _See, I am harmless._ If they attacked, his only option would be to throw himself in the river and hope it would wash him to safety.

The creatures talked among themselves. One was holding the hammock-like thing in its arms. There was emphatic gesturing, and many glances in Jago's direction. After some discussion one of them left the group and went over to Jago. As it approached he saw that it didn't really look like a spider. The ones he had seen fishing has been wet, which made their limbs look stick-thin. This one was as furry as any Fraggle, but thinner, and its head was strange and round. It stood over him and asked, "Ildurb fistenant imb?"

"I don't speak your language," Jago said. He stopped playing and reached into his carrying sack. The creature tensed, ready to flee. The others were poised and watching hard. They were _afraid_ of him? The thought shamed him. He took out the cluster of fruit he had picked, ate one, and then held it up to the creature.

It hesitated, looking at Jago. Then it picked one of the fruits and ate it.

Jago was relieved. So they ate plants after all. Then what were they tangling fish for?

The creature squatted in front of Jago and gestured at his chordophone. He offered it to the creature. It sat down cross-legged and accepted the instrument. He watched with interest as it set the bowl in its lap and the neck against its shoulder as he had done, and experimentally began plucking the strings. Jago was surprised and pleased to see that it clearly understood the instrument, and was finding the notes. It paused occasionally to eat more of the fruit.

The other creatures watched in surprise as the Fraggle—nornally a hostile creature—shared food and then a musical instrument with one of their own. To their disbelief, he sat down and began to play.

* * *

The creature got the hang of the chordophone fairly quickly. He—Jago had stopped thinking of the creature as an it, and based on his voice assumed he was male—must already know how to play something similar. The thought was very heartening. They played music. They were, indeed, people!

They had finished the fruit. Jago took the other food he had gathered, placed it on top of the sack and gestured to it, inviting the creature to partake. He nodded acknowledgment, but continued experimenting with the instrument. Jago took out his panflute and began playing a slow tune.

The other creatures tied their net to boulders on both banks and lowered it into the river.

* * *

The creature was playing music before too long. Jago could tell that he wasn't satisfied with his playing; he often winced when a note came out wrong. It took more than a few hours for one's fingers to learn the frets. Jago smiled encouragingly, and played his tune around the other's.

After a while the creature put the chordophone down with a soft click on the stone between himself and Jago. He said, "Mai m'rray. Aou?"

Jago put down his panflute, turned his hands up, and shrugged: _I don't understand._

The creature thought a moment. Then he tapped his chest and said slowly, "Mai, m'rray." Pointing at Jago, he said, "Aou?"

Jago said, "Me? I'm a Fraggle."

"Fraggle," the creature repeated, nodding. Jago had not expected this. He had simply wanted to show these creatures that Fraggles were not warlike. He had not expected to try to communicate with them. But now it was happening! He touched his panflute and said, "Panflute."

The other repeated the word, then touched the chordophone. Jago named it, and the other stumbled the first time he tried to say the long word. They named the food Jago had brought—they both ate the fruit and berries, but the other declined the mushrooms and other herbage—and various other concepts that they could express in pantomime. Jago was stumped when the other wiggled a hand in the air, pointed at the river, and said "Sakan."

They had already named water and river. The other repeated the hand gesture, which looked like something slithering. "Sakan?"

Jago shrugged. The other nodded and held up a finger. Then he got up somewhat stiffly, as he had been sitting in one position for a long time, and went back to his fellows, who had pulled their weaving out of the water. In it were many fish, still alive. They were pulling the fish out and putting the large ones in a bag. They tossed the small ones back into the water. He took one, to the surprise of his fellows, and brought it over to Jago. "Sakan."

"Sakan," Jago repeated. So that's what they called fish. The other held the squirming thing out, clearly offering it to Jago. "Sakan, eat." He snapped his mouth several times.

Squeamishly Jago held one hand up and said, "No. Eat fruit, not sakan."

The other shrugged, then took the fish back. His friends spoke with him briefly. He went back to Jago and, lacking the words, pointed to himself, then his group, then drew a line in the air toward the tunnel they had come from.

Jago interpreted that as "We're going home now." Jago nodded, then pointed to himself and drew a similar line indicating the way he had come. He put the uneaten food and the instruments in their bags.

The other said, "River again, music again?"

Jago smiled. "Yes. Music again."

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago (under his real name) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 7  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Pale shapes flashed within the tumbling, foaming water. The largest fish were caught in the net that stretched across the pinch point of the underground river. Smaller ones slipped through and continued on their way. The fishing creatures, satisfied that their net was firmly secured, left it to see what the last of their number was doing.

One of their number had not been working the nets lately. Instead, he had been meeting with the Fraggle who had been coming here to play his music while they fished. M'rray, a musician himself, had overcome his fear and approached him, and found that this Fraggle was not warlike at all. M'rray had even been learning the Fraggle's language so they could talk.

Jago was impressed with how fast M'rray had picked up his language. In a handful of meetings he had acquired enough vocabulary to hold a conversation, while Jago had only learned isolated words. So, when they spoke it was in Jago's tongue. Music, of course, needed no translation.

The fishers watched the two. M'rray was playing a guitar, and Jago a pair of small drums. They waited for a while, then one spoke a short, polysyllabic sentence. M'rray stopped and looked over, then answered similarly.

Jago watched as the two conversed. Jago thought he could make out some of it; their two languages had similar words. M'rray had said that he thought that they had started out as the same language and then diverged. M'rray said to Jago, "Edrra asks a question. Days ago, Fraggles yell, run at us, make us go, leave our net. Why?"

That had been one of the first things Jago had explained to M'rray, once they had the vocabulary to tackle the subject. Obviously she wanted to ask Jago himself. Looking at Edrra, Jago said, "We were afraid. For Fraggles, unknown things are dangers. We frighten things away so they will leave us alone. We should not have done that to you. I am sorry."

M'rray relayed that statement. Edrra looked startled. She had not expected an apology. She spoke again, and M'rray translated, "You took our fish, not took our net. Why?"

"We didn't understand that you eat the fish. We only eat plants, and didn't think that people ate animals. We returned the fish to the water."

M'rray paused, thinking about how to phrase that to avoid the obvious implication: Fraggles thought that only animals ate meat. He spoke carefully. Edrra looked hard at Jago, then nodded in grudging acceptance. She answered. M'rray said, "You will tell Fraggles not bother us. We will not bother you."

"I will."

Edrra nodded, then spoke to M'rray for a minute before turning to go haul in the net. M'rray said to Jago, "She said, good you came alone with music. We are ready then to fight Fraggles, but you alone, not dangerous, not need fight."

Jago thought, he had, without realizing what he was doing, averted a crisis with his music. He had only meant to show them that Fraggles were not crazy and warlike. He couldn't speak to them at first, but music went past the barriers of language and custom. After he and M'rray had played music together, they no longer seemed alien to each other.

A shout drew M'rray's attention. He glanced at the others who were hauling the net out of the water. They were working hard; the net was heavy with a big catch. M'rray said, "I go help," and got up.

Jago paused, then set his drums aside. The other creatures watched, shocked, as he went to the side opposite the one M'rray joined. He had watched them pull out the net enough times. They chanted to set the rhythm, and hauled on every third beat. He hauled with them.

The net was full of flapping fish. Jago stepped back while they quickly went through their catch, placing the big ones in bags of a strange, stiff material and throwing the small ones back into the river to continue their lives.

* * *

Soon the sorting was done. The creatures were picking up to leave. Jago said to M'rray, "Come, visit my home."

M'rray looked at him in surprise. "To Fraggles home?"

"Yes. I'd like my people to meet you, the way I met your people."

M'rray dithered. He had not expected such an invitation. He hadn't really wanted to visit a Fraggle tribe… but what Jago said made sense. Those who had seen Jago realized that he was no enemy, he was a person. If the Fraggles met him, hopefully they'd realize the same thing. He sure wouldn't mind not worrying about being run off again while catching dinner. He answered, "Yes." Then he spoke to the others of the group. They were also surprised. Not upset, however.

Jago and M'rray gathered up their instruments as the others carried their catch away. M'rray said in a tone of amusement, "They say I am…" He searched for a word, then tapped the side of his head and crossed his eyes. "My head is not right."

Jago laughed. "Crazy."

"Crazy," M'rray agreed, grinning.

They started down the passage leading up to the Fraggles' colony. As soon as they emerged from the steep upward tunnel they heard soft, distant music. Jago stopped. He had not heard this in handfuls of days. Why was it playing now?

M'rray, seeing Jago's surprise, said, "Fraggles music?"

"No. Come." He beckoned, and followed the sound. He did not bother to mark his path. Though he was not familiar with these tunnels, he knew their destination. M'rray followed.

* * *

The tune summoned them to a large cave. It was surprisingly well lit for a cave this far from a colony. Most of the stone was covered with living things. One sloping wall was a thick tangle of vines. Ferns and grasses and flowers grew wherever they could take root, and mosses covered the space left over. It was a safe, warm, green chamber dotted with splashes of color in the form of blooming flowers.

The music was coming from the vines. Projecting from the mass of foliage was a stick that turned into a double spiral, one branch twining around another. It ended, not in a tapering twig or a burst of leaves, but in the bells of a musical horn.

"What is this?" M'rray asked in a low voice.

"It is magic. Let's listen."

The two sat on a softly mossy boulder. The horn played to them. M'rray listened in wonder. Jago did not think; all he was aware of was the music. The first time he had seen the horn he had refused to claim it. Since then, he had occasionally heard its music in the caves, as if it was calling to him, and came to listen to it. Each time it had been a little bigger, its sound richer. It was growing.

M'rray looked at the ivy. He could see no sign of someone underneath playing the horn. But why would anyone hide under a bunch of vines, making music in case wanderers came by? It was easier to believe that this was magic. The world was full of it. Magic lit the caves; magic made new living things appear; magic opened tunnels when they were needed and sometimes closed them again when their role was done. Magic was part of the background of their lives, and they accepted it unquestioningly.

He glanced at Jago. The Fraggle was sitting perfectly still except for his slow breathing, It was as if he had dozen off at attention.

The song of the horn trailed away into silence. A voice said, _"Have you come for the pipe?"_

M'rray looked around. He hadn't heard anyone enter, and he saw nobody now. Jago opened his eyes, unperturbed, and said, "We came to listen."

_"Now the pipe can only sing its own song. It must join with one who will travel far to learn more."_

"If I join with it, what will it take of me?" Jago asked.

_"Your life."_

Jago had expected that answer. "And what will it give me in return?"

_"Your life."_

Jago nodded. He had refused the original offer immediately, thinking that if he accepted the horn he would die. But that would be senseless. There had to be more to it than that. He asked, "What kind of life?"

_"Your life will flow through the horn, and it will give you its magic. It was made to unite the rock with music. Will you give it your life so it can give you your mission?"_

If he accepted the horn, he would be agreeing to travel with it, playing music in far distant caves. There were people far away… the thought did not surprise him, but it had never occurred to him to wonder about them before.

To leave his home, with music as his companion and message. To have a message, to have a purpose. To do more than make pretty sounds. To perhaps even change the world for the better, or at least to try. How could he refuse such an offer?

M'rray watched with apprehension as Jago walked to the ivy, reached up, and took the pipe. With a soft snap it broke off its stem, like a ripe fruit. The voice said, _"Play your song."_

His song? He had never thought of any song as being his, but there was one that he had known as long as he could remember. Nobody else sang or played it. He raised the horn, took a breath, and began to play.

The sound of the horn was bright and clear as flowing water. M'rray thought, this was the sound of music distilled, the sound you heard in your head before you picked up an instrument to translate that tune for the rest of the world. He felt an urge to take out his guitar, but he did not. Then he noticed the vines beyond Jago. The leaves were twitching as if reaching out, and here and there orange flowers were appearing. One by one they bloomed, showing yellow zigzag patterns on their petals.

When the song was finished Jago lowered the pipe. The voice said, _"Look at your left hand."_

Jago did. There was a glowing mark, a zigzag like those on the flowers. As he watched it faded.

_"That is the mark of the pipe. It is yours. It always has been. Now go."_

"I will," Jago said. He slung the bag with his drums over one shoulder. M'rray picked up his guitar. Jago began to play as he walked.

After a few minutes M'rray said, "You mind?"

Jago stopped playing and glanced at him. M'rray was holding his guitar, ready to play. Jago smiled and said, "Please do."

Jago resumed his tune, and M'rray joined in. Together they walked on toward the Fraggle colony.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and Jago and M'rray (under their real names) are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 8  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Jago was still playing the Magic Pipe, and M'rray his guitar, when they arrived at the Fraggle colony. Curious Fraggles, summoned by the unearthly melody, stared in shock at the weird creature walking beside Jago.

M'rray hid his nervousness as best he could. Jago was all right, but the other Fraggles…if they ganged up on him, he'd have to run _fast_. He fervently hoped that Jago knew what he was doing.

Jago went to a large, mushroom-like stone formation at the center of the Deep Gallery. Only then did he lower the pipe. Many Fraggles had come, and were staring at the two musicians. Jago said, "I have brought a guest to our caves. This is Murray. His people use the same river we get knife stones from." M'rray gave a little wave.

People seemed content to come close—but not too close—and stare, so Jago began playing his horn again. M'rray started back up on his guitar. The people didn't seem hostile, he thought, but they were still looking at him as if he was some sort of beast.

Normally when a Fraggle started playing music in the Deep Gallery others joined in. There was a tongue-in-cheek saying that the only thing more contagious than a song was pebble pox. However, this time it didn't happen. Jago continued playing as if he didn't notice.

Then he heard the sound of a flute. Both Jago and M'rray glanced up. Other Fraggles looked over in surprise. Striding through the throng was Tunesmith, Jago's erstwhile teacher, playing his bamboo flute. The musician walked to Jago and M'rray and stood with them, joining their tune.

After a little while the other Fraggles, seeing that nothing bizarre was about to occur, began to relax. Some wandered away. Sensing that he no longer needed to keep the situation under control with music, Jago brought the song to its coda. For a few moments there was quiet, as everyone was waiting for someone else to speak.

Finally a young Fraggle pointed at M'rray and piped up, "What is it?"

"His name is Murray," Jago said.

"Hi," M'rray said.

The little Fraggle shied back a little when she heard the creature speak. But she was young enough not to know to stay afraid of someone who didn't seem scary. She said, "Are you a monster?"

"I'm not monster. I'm Pisca."

"What's a Pisca?"

"I," M'rray said, grinning. The little Fraggle didn't get the joke. He said, "People like me, we live in caves near, down deeper, near fast river."

"Oh," said the little Fraggle. She had to think about this statement, put in the missing words, to figure out what he meant. "You talk funny."

M'rray smiled wryly and shrugged. "I just begin. I learn."

Jago said, "He has only been talking to me for several handfuls of days. It takes most Fraggles _years_ to learn to speak."

"Oh," she replied, very seriously. Then she said "Bye," and scampered off.

"Kids is same everywhere," M'rray observed.

Jago said to their audience, "When we first met his people, we were afraid of them, and chased them away. But when I went to meet them alone I found that they are not so different from us. We could not speak together at first, so we communicated through music. The same music that is all around us—in the rushing of water, in the sounds the creatures of the cave make—binding us all together. If we listen, we can understand it."

The other Fraggles began to lose interest. Jago was a good Fraggle and a wonderful musician, but he had notions that could be called, at best, strange. He claimed that music was in everything. He heard it where nobody else did. He wasn't exactly pushy about his odd philosophy; he never demanded that others agree with him. But he wouldn't give it a rest, even though nobody else was interested. So when he started rambling they simply tuned him out.

Tunesmith closed his eyes. It had been going so well.

* * *

Soon after the music was over, people wandered away. It was ever thus. It was all so simple, so self-evident to Jago; why couldn't anyone else, not even _one_, see it?

Tunesmith put a sympathetic hand on Jago's shoulder. Jago told him, "I thought this time it'd be different. Music bridged the gulf between our people and Murray's. I've proven it! Why won't they listen?"

Tunesmith replied in a low voice, "They _have_ listened. And they decided long ago they don't believe. Jago, what you've done is good, making friends with one of these Pisca and teaching him to speak. You've done something that nobody else thought possible. But as for the rest of it…you believe what _you_ decide to believe, and others will do the same."

"I understand," Jago said quietly.

Tunesmith patted Jago's shoulder again, then got up and left.

Jago looked down at the magic pipe for a long minute. Then he said to M'rray, "Let's go."

They got up, and Jago led M'rray out of the Deep Gallery.

* * *

Jago led M'rray to the small room that he lived in. He had few possessions; his bedding and several other musical instruments made up the bulk of it. The rest was unimportant. Jago said, "I promised to travel with the pipe. I have nothing more to learn here. There is no point in staying."

"You leave this home? Where to go?" M'rray asked.

"I don't know. I'll find out when I get there. The point is to learn new songs, isn't it?" He calmly rolled his bedding up and placed the smallest of his instruments in the pockets of his vest. He tied his bedding with twine, then attached a canteen to that.

"Alone Fraggle walk in deep caves. Not safe," M'rray said uneasily.

"I believe this pipe will protect me," Jago said calmly.

M'rray shook his head. Running away from home? He didn't know the words to tell Jago that that was silly and childish. But then, he thought, it was a good thing he couldn't say that yet, because it wasn't true. Jago didn't think the same way that the other Fraggles here did. He was willing to talk to other people rather than chasing them away. He wasn't a fool.

Jago lifted the improvised pack to his shoulders, slipped his arms through twine loops, and settled it comfortably onto his back. He took a last look around the room, then said to M'rray, "Let's go."

* * *

Jago led M'rray back through the Deep Gallery. En route he found Tunesmith again. Tunesmith noticed his pack and said conversationally, "Where are you going now?"

"Out there," Jago said, gesturing at the passage that led to the deeper caves. "Tunesmith, I have learned much from you. Without that I would not have become what I am. Thank you."

Concerned, Tunesmith said, "Jago, what are you going to do?"

"I made a promise. I am going to travel through the rock, learning its songs."

"Who did you make this promise to?" He glanced suspiciously at M'rray.

Jago showed him the pipe. "I made a promise to the one who made this magic pipe for me. Promises must be fulfilled." He met Tunesmith's eyes. "Furthermore, I want to," he said firmly.

Tunesmith wanted to argue, but he didn't. Jago was an adult, and no Fraggle had the right to restrain another. Jago continued, projecting so the nearby Fraggles could hear, "When a Fraggle comes of age he may give himself a new name. I claim that right."

Tunesmith knew the response; he had taken part in this ritual many times. "Who are you?"

Jago told him, "I will be the song I sing. I am Cantus."

"Welcome, Cantus," said Tunesmith.

"Thank you. And now, goodbye."

Cantus turned and left, with Murray following. A few Fraggles he passed by greeted him by his chosen name—acknowledging his new identity, as was proper—as they said farewell.

Once out of the colony Cantus remarked to Jago, "That was more dramatic than I intended. Ah, well."

M'rray said, "You are either brave or crazy."

Cantus smiled. "If you talked to Tunesmith—or any other Fraggle—they'd tell you that I'm harmlessly crazy. As for brave…I'm just brave enough to have faith."

"Faith?" M'rray questioned.

"I believe. Even though what I believe seems strange, I still believe. I believe that there are people out there that I have never heard of, and that I can learn their songs and teach them mine." He nodded back to where the Magic Pipe rested on top of his pack, threaded through the twine. "I am not leaving because of my promise to travel with the pipe. I promised because I realized that was what I wanted to do."

M'rray gave him a long look. Then he grinned and said, "Brave _and_ crazy."

Cantus laughed. "We'll see."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Murray are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tunesmith and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 9  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Cantus and M'rray walked back to the underground river where they had first met. There were no other Pisca there at the moment. They would not come again until two days from tomorrow, as they only fished every third day. Cantus didn't understand why. Dead flesh went foul very soon after it was killed; surely they wouldn't eat days-old fish? The thought was stomach-turning.

The plank bridge had been pulled back to the other side of the river. Since the Fraggles' attack the Pisca only left the bridge in place while they were fishing; they did not want to encourage Fraggles to cross the river and approach the Pisca colony. Cantus and M'rray jumped across the pinch point where the Pisca strung their net. It was narrow enough that a reasonably athletic adult could leap across, but wide enough, and the water beneath it rough enough, to command respect. Then M'rray led Cantus into a passage at the other end of the cavern.

Cantus looked around as he walked, uncomfortable with leaving known territory without marking the path. It was hard to suppress hundreds of days of training. He noticed that mushrooms and other delicacies grew large here. Nobody was eating them. Murray's folk must not consider them food. Well, Cantus thought, he couldn't eat fish, but he certainly wouldn't go hungry.

After a few twists and turns through unfamiliar passages they arrived in a cave that was longer and narrower than the Fraggles' Deep Gallery, but was an obvious communal point. Side passages opened all along its length. Some were curtained over. A small stream ran along one wall, widening into a pool at one point.

There were also Pisca here, more than Cantus had ever seen at one time. They all looked much the same to him: wiry green furry creatures with round heads and no noses. Their coloration varied slightly, as did their sizes. How did they tell each other apart? Cantus was glad that Fraggles were more distinctive.

M'rray decided to get it over immediately. To those who had seen them enter and were now staring with alarm at the alien in their midst he said, _"This is_ Cantus. _He's come alone as my guest. Don't worry, he's harmless. He's a musician."_

Cantus heard his name. The rest was unintelligible. From the way the others reacted, first surprise and then amusement, he guessed that M'rray was allaying their fears.

Some Pisca were approaching. Now they seemed openly curious. M'rray said to Cantus, "We play music now, yes?"

"Yes." He set down his improvised backpack and took out the Magic Pipe. M'rray took his guitar out of his bag and led Cantus over to the pond. There were smooth boulders all around it, just the right size for sitting on. M'rray began playing, and after a moment Cantus joined in.

More Pisca emerged from the side tunnels. They liked music, and wondered about the source of the unfamiliar sound. When they saw Cantus they stopped and stared. Fraggles were territorial; they chased away anyone they found near their colony. Recently they had even attacked the Pisca at the river. M'rray had explained that that was a mistake that would not be repeated and had even claimed to have become friends with one of them. M'rray was no liar, but they had found this impossible to believe. Yet here was a Fraggle in their midst! What did it want?

By the time they finished playing it seemed the whole colony was there. Most of them had never seen a Fraggle up close and were curious. It didn't look warlike to them. M'rray's claim to have befriended one and learned to talk to it had gone around the colony, and had been met with various combinations of surprise and disbelief. Now they were seeing the proof.

M'rray repeated for everyone to hear, _"This is_ Cantus. _He's my guest. Don't be afraid of him. His people won't bother us any more."_

After Murray spoke the other Pisca murmured. Uneasily Cantus asked, "What did you tell them?"

"I say, you Cantus, my guest. Not be afraid, Fraggles not attack us again."

"Oh."

"Not worry. You guest, you safe. This is true."

Cantus nodded. He could only hope that M'rray was right. These people had no reason to like Fraggles. He would have to give them one.

* * *

They played some more music, and then M'rray showed Cantus to his home. They had taken a length of tunnel and partitioned it with cloth stretched across bamboo frames into a series of rooms with a walkway along one side. M'rray pushed one curtain aside and told Cantus, "My place. When you visit, you stay here."

The way he said it, it was an offer, not a command. It looked to Cantus to be a bit small for two people, but not uncomfortably so. He replied, "Thank you."

* * *

Cantus stayed there for days. Each time the Pisca saw him they seemed less on edge. He played music for them. He tried to learn their language, but only succeeded in picking up a few basic words. When M'rray was not available to translate Cantus got by on pantomime. He joined a group of gatherers—the Pisca did eat something besides fish, thank goodness!—and learned by trial and error what they considered suitable for food. He gathered plenty for them, and always picked some mushrooms and greens that they didn't like for himself.

There were places in the colony where he could not go. Mostly that was because they had to do with fish. They brought the fish they caught to a certain tunnel and cut them apart before cooking them. The sight and smell of the carnage sickened Cantus. However, he was surprised to see that they didn't butcher all of the fish right away. Many were still alive when they got them to the colony. Those went into the central pool, which was blocked at the downstream end, Cantus now saw, with a finely-woven net to prevent escape. Fish were then scooped out with a net on a hoop as needed. That was how they kept the fish they ate fresh. There was one fish bigger than the others, however, and they would not eat that one. M'rray explained that it was Haduma, the colony's pet.

He and M'rray played music after the colony's one communal meal of the day. Sometimes others did too. They did not join in, however; each took a turn, playing their own favorite tune. When Cantus learned that among the Pisca music was a performance, not a shared event, he was surprised. Even more shocking was the idea that people could claim to own music. How could anyone control who sang a song, and why would they want to? He and M'rray discussed this matter, to the frustration of both. Their basic assumptions were so ingrained in their cultures that they took them as unshakable truths, and they would have found them hard to explain even without the language barrier.

Eventually Cantus decided simply to accept what he didn't understand. It made no sense to him, but among these people it was a truth. Before he played a Pisca song he had learned he asked M'rray whether it was one of the safe ones. The songs children sang were all safe, and as the children warmed to him they began teaching him their songs. This turned out to be a good thing, diplomatically speaking; who could be afraid of an alien who spent his time playing children's ditties?

* * *

Cantus woke up one morning and wondered how long he had been there. Fraggles rarely kept track of time. There had been three fishing expeditions while he was here. After the most recent one a child had given him a gift.

He reached back, behind his bedding, and picked up a river-polished stone with a hole in the middle. Stones with holes were rare, and considered significant by the Pisca. The child had shown him how, if you blew across the hole, it whistled. She couldn't explain it to him—he still knew barely any of the language—so she had made an elaborate pantomime to demonstrate. The sheer delight on her face when he had finally caught on still made him smile. In return, he had sung a Fraggle children's song for her and her friends. After he had assured them that they were free to sing along they had all joined in, changing the words to their own language and making each other choke with laughter. He never found out what the joke was, but did it matter as long as they enjoyed themselves?

He felt calmer now than he had when he had first come here. These people were very different, but he no longer found them all that strange. If he could only learn their language! That was the snag. Murray spoke Fragglish more clearly every day, but Cantus could only learn isolated Pisca words, and if he didn't use them he forgot them. He had to face the unmistakable fact that he had no talent for languages.

He looked at the stone whistle again, and smiled. This was a pleasant place. But maybe there was a reason he couldn't learn the language. He could not stay here. He had promised to travel with the Magic Pipe. While he was here he had, he hoped, demonstrated to both sides that Fraggles and Pisca were not natural enemies. What more could he do here?

It was time to move on.

The thought didn't intimidate him. It felt right. It was what he was meant to do. His time here had allowed him to rest and calm his heart, and now he must begin his mission. Today, he thought as he felt the weight of the stone in his hand.

He got up, which was to say out of his bedding, and rolled it up, then tied it with twine. He only had a few other possessions, and with the exception of the Magic Pipe they fit into his pockets and bag. M'rray, who had awakened when Cantus had started moving around, said, "What are you doing?"

"Packing. It's time I continued on my journey."

M'rray had expected Cantus to stay here a while, until he got over his disappointment with his own colony. It had taken longer than he had expected, but he hadn't minded. Cantus was a pleasant, undemanding guest. Getting out of bed, he said, "Oh. Where you will go?"

"Out there," Cantus said with a vague gesture.

"Not to home?" M'rray asked, surprised.

Cantus said, a faraway look in his eyes, "No. I have a journey ahead of me. I must walk forward, not backward." He met M'rray's eyes and said, "Thank you for having me as your guest. I have learned much here. I will miss you."

"Today you go?"

"Yes."

"After meal. Wait 'til then?"

Cantus nodded. "All right."

* * *

Cantus half expected M'rray to try to convince him to stay. He seemed distressed about Cantus leaving. Cantus felt the same way, he supposed; he had come to think of M'rray as a good friend. It's hard to leave friends behind.

However, M'rray had not done anything to try to change his mind. In fact, Cantus hadn't seen him at all. Was he angry, and avoiding him? He hoped not. He didn't want to leave his friend on a sour note. Yet he knew he must move on.

When the Pisca assembled for their afternoon meal—as usual, fish, with various vegetables and fruits on the side; Cantus ate the plant matter and supplemented it with some mushrooms he had gathered—M'rray reappeared, carrying a tube in his hands. He handed it to the Fraggle and said cheerfully, "Look at these," then went off to get his food.

Cantus unrolled the tube. It was made of several sheets of some sort of light-colored material, thin and brittle-feeling, yet it didn't crack when bent. On it were shapes drawn in various colors, mostly brown.

When M'rray came back Cantus was staring at the images. He said, "I make map copies. Everything around here."

"They're…interesting. What do you do with them?" Cantus asked.

M'rray blinked. Then he said, "They're _maps_. What you do with maps?"

"I have never done anything with them," Cantus replied.

M'rray stared at him for a moment. Then he began chuckling. "Fraggles don't make maps? Okay." He sat down and placed pebbles on the corners of one to hold it open. "It show you where things are. This is river." He traced a blue line running diagonally through the center of the page. There was a drawing of a fish in a wide spot. "Here, where we fish. And here—" his finger followed a squiggly line leading away from it to an open area—"tunnel from river to Pisca home. Here, this way to Fraggle cave."

"I see." Cantus understood the concept now. He didn't see the point, though. If you know what's around you, why would you need a diagram of it?

M'rray showed him the next sheet. "Here, river, Pisca home, Fraggle home." The area he pointed to was only a small section of the paper. "Here, paths. More colonies. Things that grow. Dangers. You see here, you not make mistake, go here where tunnel lead nowhere, just stop. Not go here, rocks fall. You go here, safe path, near water so you don't get thirsty. See?"

"I see," Cantus murmured. Now he understood. A map was a way to show what was around you even if you'd never been there before. That had never been relevant to him, as Fraggles of his colony did not travel far. Their territory was theirs, and the outside could take care of itself. This was like blaze marks on a cave wall, but it showed you your entire path!

As they ate M'rray pointed out items of interest on the map. There was another Pisca colony here, and further out they had seen Fraggles and other people. Patches where edibles grew were also marked, as were good fishing spots and pools where, with a little luck, sweetwater could be found. By the time they finished they had plotted a course for the first leg of Cantus' journey.

Cantus rolled the maps up. M'rray said, "When do you leave?"

"I planned to leave now."

"Wait." M'rray held up a finger, then went back to the tunnel where he made his home. He came back with a roll similar to Cantus', his bedding and guitar.

Cantus said, "You are coming too?"

M'rray replied, "Yes. One Fraggle alone in caves, not safe. Two, much safer. And…" He cast about for words; it was hard to express some things in a different language. "I think you are right, pipe is right. Share music, meet other people, learn and teach. I believe too."

Cantus smiled. "Those are good reasons."

Cantus slipped the maps and his pipe under the twine bindings of his pack and raised it to his shoulders. M'rray did the same. Cantus asked, "Do you need time to say your farewells?"

"I did that already," M'rray answered.

"In that case… let's go."

The two went out the east passage, as plotted on the maps. As they did M'rray said, "More reason I come. I like you. And I want to see what crazy Fraggle does next."

Cantus laughed.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Murray are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 10  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a world carved out of soil. The tunnels were not solid, reliable rock, but earth, packed hard and reinforced with stones and wooden structures that looked like huge Doozer constructions. The ground was perfectly flat, packed down by the tread of thousands of Fraggle feet, even on the outskirts of the colony. Here and there the tunnel bent to accommodate tree roots.

This colony was close to the surface. Cantus and M'rray, traveling together, had followed the path that M'rray has plotted on his maps. Eventually they had gone past the maps' range, and were now seeing sights that they had only heard of in legends, including a column of light shining down from above. When they had investigated, they had seen an incomprehensible sight: distance, unfathomable distance in every direction, with wavery grasses and occasional taller things sticking out of it. Above, mottled blue and white, and something so bright they could not look at it. It had unnerved both of them. They had not understood why such strangeness should be so upsetting, and they quickly decided that they should listen to their instincts and remain in the safe underground tunnels where they belonged.

After going off the maps Cantus had taken the lead, and M'rray guessed that the Fraggle was following his nose. Heh, Fraggles had good noses for that. Somehow they had avoided significant dangers and setbacks thus far, and had found more colonies. Most were Fraggles, but there had been Pisca and a few other species. Nearly all of them spoke Cantus' language. M'rray was getting lots of practice, now that he had nobody to speak his own language with.

When they heard voices Cantus raised the Magic Pipe and began to play softly.

* * *

Every Fraggle colony had a central area where everyone could gather. It was the social center of the colony. This colony was constructed much like a rabbit warren, made up of tunnels and rooms dug out of the soil. Because earth was not as stable as limestone, the Fraggles had left the columnlike tap roots of the trees above them alone when they had made this chamber, and had woven other living roots into a kind of ceiling. The walls were carpeted with various plants that had strong root systems.

The Fraggles looked over, startled and confused, when the strangers entered. Their instincts warned them that strangers could be enemies, the hill must be protected! But they came in weaponless and playing music, as if the possibility of harm had never occurred to them. Unable to decide what to do, the Fraggles let the strangers—one a rather odd-looking Fraggle, the other an alien creature—walk in unchallenged.

Cantus and M'rray walked over to a thick, horizontal root that had, from the look of its polished upper surface, been used as a seat by many Fraggles. He and M'rray sat, playing a gentle tune, while Fraggles gathered around, murmuring curiously.

Cantus finished the tune and lowered the pipe. He said, "Greetings, fellow Fraggles. I am Cantus, and this is Murray." M'rray nodded. "We have traveled far, playing our music for the people we meet. Now we wish to play for you. Please, gather your people so they may all listen."

The Fraggles paused. Then some left, going out the round tunnels leading out of this chamber. Others walked some distance away, supposedly going back to what they were doing before but, M'rray could see, also keeping an eye on them. He murmured to Cantus, "This is strange."

"The acoustics _are_ unusual. Hardly any echo. It must be the earth and plants," Cantus observed.

"Right, right..." M'rray said.

Cantus waited. He and M'rray had been visiting various colonies, and for each one they played their music and Cantus told them of their kinship with the world through song. Their audiences always listened appreciatively to the music, and politely to his words, but the message wasn't sticking. M'rray wasn't bothered about that; for him it was enough to share music. And, yes, Cantus agreed that that was good, but he knew he had more to give. He had to try harder.

* * *

Soon the central cave was filled with Fraggles. To M'rray's eye they seemed to be caught between interest in their visitors, who had walked in as if they belonged, and caution, because these were unknown people, and one a strange, non-Fraggle being. Earlier in their travels this would have worried M'rray, but now he knew that if their audience wasn't afraid or hostile—and none had been so far—they were safe.

Cantus said, "Murray, may I borrow your guitar? I want to sing."

"Sure." M'rray handed him the guitar, and accepted the Magic Pipe.

Cantus said, looking at all the assembled Fraggles, "Thank you for coming to hear me. I hope that you enjoy my song and remember its message."

Me, not us, M'rray noted. Hmm. Well, Cantus did have something new planned, so M'rray would find out what it was when the rest of the audience did.

Cantus played a lively, up-tempo introduction. M'rray was startled. Cantus usually played gentle, soft music.

Cantus sang,  
"Please hear what I am singing now and hear my words, though strange and new  
In the world outside your tunnels there are people strange but still like you.  
We have traveled through the caverns, we have traversed many tunnels  
Divided by wide rivers and connected by thin runnels.  
The folk who live throughout the Rock may look like you and they might not,  
We differ in our bodies but we are the same in mind and thought.  
We must greet them as our brethren, we must meet them with our song.  
We must fill the stone and air with music to which we all belong."

Cantus stopped playing and asked, "Do you believe me?"

_"Yes!"_

* * *

M'rray was shocked. He had watched the faces of the Fraggles while Cantus had been singing. Normally Fraggles looked relaxed as the music flowed through them, refreshing as a spring breeze. But these Fraggles had seemed… blank, as if the song had stunned them. Yet they had absorbed his message, and now believed Cantus. After all his efforts, he finally made people believe his message! They believed so much it was alarming.

For the rest of the day Fraggles had been meeting with Cantus. They sang with him, praised him, promised to carry his message. Cantus, of course, was pleased. As the day wore on M'rray, appalled, took the Magic Pipe and guitar and left the main cavern.

* * *

That evening Cantus found M'rray at the tunnel leading out of the colony. Cantus looked disturbed. He said, "Murray, what happened?"

"I ask _you_ that," M'rray responded.

Cantus shook his head. "I thought that I wasn't trying hard enough, and that was why people didn't believe me. So I did—and now they believe me _too much!"_

"What a problem," M'rray said drily.

Cantus sat down and lowered his head into his hands. "They believe, but they don't _understand_. They believe without thinking. That's not what I wanted, Murray."

"How did you do it? You used magic?"

Cantus flinched from the accusation. "No! The only magic I have is in that pipe. I simply… convinced them."

Cantus realized what he had done. When a Fraggle sang, there was no barrier between his heart and his words. What a Fraggle sang was that Fraggle's truth. Other Fraggles knew that on an instinctive level, and believed him. Cantus had put too much force into his song, and had, without meaning to, mesmerized them, giving them no choice but to believe him. He had bypassed their brains and shot his words into their hearts.

M'rray saw flickers of emotion chase across Cantus' face. When the Fraggle looked up, he said, "I need the Magic Pipe."

Silently M'rray picked it up and held it out to Cantus. He took it, drew in a breath, and blew.

It played a discordant squawk.

M'rray watched as Cantus stared at the pipe in surprise and dismay. The Fraggle was silent for a minute. Then he said, "Excuse me," and got up and walked away, leaving the pipe behind.

* * *

Several hours later M'rray was becoming worried. Cantus had walked off, abandoning him and even the Magic Pipe. Was he just going to walk away from the mess he'd created?

M'rray didn't think so. Cantus would come back for the pipe. There was some sort of mystical connection between the two, and M'rray doubted that Cantus would willingly give it up, even as upset as he was. But M'rray wouldn't give it back to him until he promised to make good. Both the pipe and guitar in hand, he got up to go looking for his friend.

He turned a bend, and found Cantus sitting there, chin in his hand, the tip of his tail sweeping slowly back and forth. Startled, M'rray said, "You didn't go far."

"I only needed to be alone with my thoughts," Cantus replied.

"And?"

"Can I borrow your guitar again?"

Not the pipe? Wordlessly M'rray held out the guitar. Cantus took it. Together the two went to the central burrow.

* * *

Cantus sat on the same root as before. He did not need to say a word; the colony's Fraggles gathered around, eager to hear him. When he raised the guitar to play it they went quiet. Into the breathless silence he said softly, "Listen."

He began to play, and sang,  
"Is song a boon?  
A song is just the words  
Of those who've sung and heard  
Another's tune.  
Though patter may persuade  
Those words, when they are weighed,  
Fade too soon.  
What right, I ask, have I,  
To ask you to rely  
On words that I supply?  
Only you can find  
Your own truth,  
Seek and you will find  
Your own truth.

"What is the truth?  
It lies behind your eyes.  
It's found within your mind.  
Seek it and you will find.  
The innocence of youth  
Can lead one far astray,  
So quick to lose one's way.  
Do not believe in me,  
For you each hold the key.  
Listen to my last plea—  
Your eyes alone can see  
Your own truth.  
Open your eyes and you will see  
Your own truth."

He played more of the tune on the guitar. He glanced at M'rray, who raised the Magic Pipe and began to play along. Their music joined together, soothing and melodious.

After they finished the colony's Fraggles, a bit disoriented, began to murmur among themselves. The spell was broken. He no longer had any hold on them. They would be confused for a little while, but there was nothing he could do about that. It was not his place to give them answers they had not asked for.

"I think it's time to leave," M'rray said quietly.

"Yes," Cantus replied.

The two stood. Cantus was about to start forward, but M'rray elbowed him. When Cantus looked over M'rray held out the Magic Pipe. Cantus took it, and returned M'rray's guitar. Gingerly Cantus raised the horn and played a single note. It came out bright and clear as spring water. Relieved, Cantus began playing a tune as he walked, and Murray accompanied him.

Of the Fraggles they left behind, one watched the two go. Her mind had cleared, but she still believed. She would think about what Cantus said. Hopefully that they would return some day.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Murray are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only. Cantus' songs can be sung to the tune of _My Eyes Are Fully _Open from Gilbert & Sullivan's operetta _Ruddigore_ and _Is Life a Boon_ from G&S's _The Yeomen of The Guard._ These songs are in the public domain, not that that applies to filked lyrics.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 11: Sanctuary  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Cantus and M'rray heard the rushing water before they saw it. It sounded huge and powerful, bigger than any underground river they had yet seen. When they were close they could smell it too. Besides water, they smelled something else they could not name. Even the air felt different somehow.

This came at just the right time. They needed to fill their dry canteens, and it had been days since they had swum and their fur felt grimy. They followed the sound to its source, a huge cavern with what at first looked like a vertical river at one side. It was the biggest waterfall they had ever seen, and it appeared to be glowing with its own light. They could see no sign of what was behind the falling water. Where it pounded the pond beneath it raised mist.

The cave was full of green. Mosses covered damp stones, ferns sprung from cracks in the rock walls, and other plants grew from small pockets of soil or waved in the current.

Cantus set his backpack and pipe on the ground, went over to the edge of the waterfall, and peered up. M'rray did too. They both saw, far overhead, the blue of aboveground and the bright thing they could not look at without pain. It shone down the waterfall shaft, illuminating it.

Despite the force and noise of the water descending out of the unknown, the cavern exuded an air of peace and safety. Fresh water flowed, nourishing the profusion of plants…not that a too-long-dry Fraggle would notice much more than the water, M'rray thought. He looked in, and under the rippling surface he saw long, thin shapes that might be mistaken for water plants, except they were not fixed in one place. Cantus dove in and the fish darted away, startled.

M'rray walked into the water. Every Fraggle colony they had visited had some sort of swimming hole, and the water in those was slow and tame. He had missed feeling the pull of a real current. He dunked his head under the surface and looked around. At the bank there were overhangs, perfect for fish to hide in. Cantus was swimming in the waterfall-churned froth.

M'rray broke the surface and wiped his eyelids, then sat on a rock in the shallows, just his head and shoulders above the surface. Buoyed by the water, he relaxed and, for a little while, turned off his mind and savored the welcoming coolth of the water.

Cantus swam under the waterfall. There was a hollow behind it, a small pocket where he could sit against the stone, looking at the backside of the waterfall. It was dark here, but the water still seemed to shine. He scooted forward and tilted his head down. The water pounded on him, firm but not too hard, like a massage.

M'rray opened his eyes and looked around. Cantus was nowhere to be seen, which meant that he must be in the waterfall. Swimming was the one pleasure in Cantus's life besides music, M'rray thought. And if he mentioned that to Cantus, chances are the Fraggle would find a way to link it to music somehow. M'rray stood, then worked his way to the shallows, moving slowly and shuffling his feet along the bottom to create a minimum of disturbance. Under one of the overhangs he had noted before he saw a slowly moving fin. He reached into the water, downcurrent from the fish. He moved his hand forward, touching the fish's underside very lightly with his fingertips. The fish remained in place as if it noticed nothing. When he reached the gills he grasped them and lifted the fish out of the water.

* * *

When Cantus emerged from the waterfall, refreshed and relaxed, he saw M'rray feeding a campfire on the bare, dry stone a few paces from the pool. He had caught a fish and spitted it on a stick. Cantus was glad that he had not seen that. He did not object to M'rray's diet; one must eat what one was made to eat. Even the smell of cooking fish didn't bother him. However, he preferred not to watch his friend catching and killing the creatures. He looked around the cavern, then dug up some roots and washed them off in the river. He found some edible greens and fruit and carried them back to the campfire.

Cantus put the fruit, a double handful of red spheres, on the rock between himself and M'rray. The Pisca took one and began eating it. Cantus wrapped the roots in leaves and pushed them into the coals at the bottom of the fire.

* * *

M'rray ate the fish right off the stick. Cantus raked the leaf-covered roots out of the ashes, unwrapped them, and ate them and the greens he had found. Both shared the fruit. When they finished Cantus said, "I wonder if this is what we should be doing."

"Resting, eating, and getting clean?" M'rray replied.

"No, this journey. I thought I could spread the word and unite the rock with music, that that's what I was given the Magic Pipe to do. But so far I've made no difference at all. The one time I made a change, it was for the worse."

Poor guy, he really had taken that hard. That had happened days and days ago, but it was still gnawing at him. True, he'd done something appalling, brainwashing the whole colony, but he'd immediately released them again, so no real harm had been done. M'rray had already had that conversation with Cantus—more than once, in fact—so he said nothing, and just patted Cantus's shoulder.

Cantus looked at the Magic Pipe. Softly he said, "I'm missing something. I don't understand."

M'rray said, "Listen."

Cantus looked questioningly at M'rray. The Pisca, imitating Cantus, said "'Listen.' You say that when you mean 'listen to me.' What do _you_ listen to?"

Cantus tilted his head questioningly. M'rray continued, "You found _your_ truth. You want to tell everyone. But they don't believe. Cantus, it is your truth because you found it for yourself. You can't make others believe it no matter how much you preach."

M'rray's tone was gentle, but his words were harsh. "Listen," Cantus murmured, this time speaking to himself.

M'rray continued, "You told me, first time pipe was offered to you, you said no. But you came back and listened to its music. When you were ready, invisible thing offered it again, and you took it. It didn't argue or preach or convince. It let you make yourself ready."

It had planted the seed. Cantus thought, you can't force a seed to grow, no matter how hard you try, in the wrong soil. Anyone could have heard the music and come to investigate; it hadn't called to Cantus only. But he had been the one who responded. He loved music enough to search for its source, to step outside the safety of the colony. Was that why he now had this pipe? He had thought that he had been chosen, but had he chosen himself instead?

M'rray said softly, "You promised to take the pipe around so it will learn music from far away. Maybe you should learn too. And maybe there _are_ people out there for you to teach, but you need to find them."

"Or they'll find me?" Cantus replied, looking at M'rray with a small smile.

"Yeah. And for everyone else, there's still music. To go visit other people, play music for them, listen to theirs, is that a waste of time? And they will see and think, people from far away, people not like us, but people. Maybe they will learn just by seeing that. We did."

Cantus smiled. "I've been trying so hard to find meaning, and you make it so simple."

"You look hard, I look simple," M'rray said with an answering grin.

Cantus drew in a breath, then let it out again. "I think you're right, Murray. It said that this would take my life. It may have meant my whole life. If that's what this journey will take...I can think of worse ways to spend my time."

"I guess it chose the right crazy Fraggle after all."

Cantus gave a little laugh. "Murray, promise me something. As long as we travel together, always be this honest with me."

"You couldn't stop me," M'rray replied, grinning.

Cantus thought, he couldn't see the path ahead. It wasn't like a map; he couldn't plot out the route he would take and select his destination. He would give himself to the journey, and see where it would take him. He picked up the pipe and began playing. All around them, flowers began blooming, as if blessing them.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Murray are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 12  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a dark and drippy cave. The stalagmites were smooth and wet and fluted like old candles. Cantus and Murray heard water plinking onto stone and plonking into pools.

They had been traveling for some time now. Two winters had passed. They had gone far beyond the range of Murray's maps, and they had soon given up trying to map their path as futile. Yet, despite their wanderings through uncharted territory, they were not lost. Somehow they found their way around, often without knowing where they were headed. Sometimes Murray tried to figure that out, but never for very long at a time.

They had visited many Fraggle and several Pisca colonies, and a number of other types of people. In each place Cantus they would listen to that colony's music and get a feel for its culture. He would join in their music and, if they were interested, play songs from elsewhere. And if they asked, he would tell them of his travels and the other people he had met.

Few asked.

Sometimes Cantus felt disappointed, but he hadn't gone into another funk. He had gotten used to the idea that he had more learning to do than preaching. He hoped that the ideas he was planting now in the colonies he visited would grow over time, that people would grow curious about their neighbors. Until then, he was enjoying the journey for its own sake.

All this was fine with Murray. This journey was an adventure, and a pretty cushy one. No dread monsters to defeat except the ones that occasionally mistook them for food, and Cantus had showed him how to bluff those off by acting fierce and making a lot of noise. The territory could be challenging, but they rarely ran across anything really treacherous, and thanks to their lack of a fixed destination they could simply bypass obstacles. His main duties were singing, playing the guitar, and keeping Cantus company. As he enjoyed music and liked Cantus, it was a good gig.

Murray spied the strange formation first. It looked like a flat shelf made of something thin and shiny. It ran along a cave wall above head height and led through an opening into a brightly lit area. He pointed it out to Cantus.

Cantus said, "Look at the light."

Murray saw what he meant. "It's horizontal."

The ambient light within the caves came from ditzies, tiny creatures that lived in the air and gathered around colonies of creatures. Their light shone in no direction; it was simply there. The shelflike creation and the artificial light had been built. By who?

The opening was high up, and even if they could get to the shiny shelf they'd never be able to crawl through that hole. They wandered around the area, listening for sounds of activity and looking for likely passages. They found what they were looking for in the form of a small mound of mushrooms. Cantus picked one up. Its stem had been neatly cut. He sniffed it, then nibbled it experimentally.

Murray made a face. Fraggles readily ate those mushy things, yet they turned up their beaklike noses at fresh fish. Go figure. He said, "What about it?"

"This is fresh," Cantus said. He looked up. There was an opening partway up the wall. It was unusually regular, and light shone horizontally out of it.

"Someone's throwing out mushrooms? They must be intelligent," Murray remarked. "I'll take a look if you give me a boost."

Cantus nodded and laced his fingers together in front of himself, making a stirrup of his hands. Murray, the lighter of the two, set one foot in that, and Cantus lifted him high enough to look through the hole. Murray hauled himself up the rest of the way.

After a minute he stuck his head back out of the hole. "You're not going to believe this. Come up." He reached down.

Cantus took Murray's hand and climbed up. Murray helped pull him through. The floor inside was higher than the tunnel outside; the hole was flush with the ground. They crawled through a short tunnel.

The cavern they emerged into was well lit; there must be many beings living here for the Ditzies to be so active. At first they thought that the interior was crystalline. But the straight lines and flat surfaces were not like any crystals they had seen before. The light came from small bright things around the cave, like tiny fires, but they did not flicker. Looking down, they saw mushrooms of the same kind that they had found outside the passage, and, closest to the structure, stems that had been cut through. Moving within and around the structure were small green beings.

"Looks like a hive," Murray murmured.

"Listen."

Murray looked at the structures and the creatures. They were moving as purposefully as ants, or, he thought, cave beetles building their nests. As they did they made a sound…Not just a sound, he realized with amazement. It was a song, with words! The creatures were working together to build something, using a song to set the rhythm. Murray said, "These are _people!"_

"Yes," Cantus said.

"They're smaller than rumble bugs."

"Lately we've seen many things for the first time."

Murray gave up. Cantus refused to be startled by strange beings. They sat by the wall of the cavern and watched the little creatures as they removed one section of their creation and replace it with another, seemingly identical piece. When they had maneuvered it into place using a crane they connected it using tiny tools that spat sparks.

They finished their task, and the chant ended. They rode to the ground on small platforms attached to the sides of the thing they had been building. Cantus raised the magic pipe and began playing the tune of the work chant.

That got the full attention of the little workers. They turned and stared at the two visitors, murmuring among themselves. Then one called over, "What do you want?"

Cantus stopped playing and said, "We are visitors from afar. We would like to visit. If you wish, we will play music for you."

That answer caused definite consternation. Funny, Murray thought; usually people opened up to that kind of statement. These creatures had obviously expected a different answer. He asked, "What do people usually want?"

One said, "Pick heads, crampons, levers, pitons. Tools."

"You make tools? Who do you make them for?"

"You're not from around here, are you? We make them for the Fraggles. Where else would they get them?"

Murray glanced at Cantus, who was listening with interest. Then he asked, "What are you?"

"What are we? We're Doozers, of course! We make and build things! What are you?"

Cantus answered, "We're Minstrels. We wander through the rock, playing our song."

Murray added, "Think of us as tourists."

"Are you sure you don't just want pickaxes?" The Doozer asked nervously.

"We have our own," Murray said, and took his out of its loop on his backpack.

The Doozer came over and examined it. It exclaimed, "This pickaxe head is _old_. See this mark?" The Doozer pointed to something on the underside of the head that, to Murray's eyes, was indistinguishable from the other scratches on the tool. "It was made cycles ago. But it's in good condition, no metal fatigue. How long have you been using it?"

Murray looked at the tool. "I don't know. It's the one I've always used."

"And your grandmother, too," the Doozer remarked. "Come with me. But—" he looked at Cantus suspiciously— "don't dance around or act crazy until you leave."

Murray stifled a snicker. He'd pay to see Cantus cut loose like a normal Fraggle. Cantus assured him, "I will control myself."

The Doozer led the two through a passage that was roomy for a Doozer into a large, round cave. It looked to have been formed out of a bubble in the rock. It was hot in here, and the light was reddish. Both were explained by the vat of glowing, volcanic-looking orange-red in the center, surrounded by stonework and, at a safe distance, Doozers and their machines. The Doozer said, "Here is where we work metal. It comes out of the rock itself, and we purify it and shape it into tools and building materials. Don't go close to that. It's hotter than one of your campfires!"

"So this is how it happens," Cantus observed, interested. He had seen raw metal in the rocks, and Fraggles had a few metal tools and items, but he had not known how things got from one state to the other. Then he remembered something, and took an item out of his pocket. He showed it to the Doozer. "Did you make this?"

The Doozer looked at a bar of metal curved in the middle so its ends were parallel. A flat, thinner piece protruded from the center. "What is this?"

"It's a jaw harp." Cantus put the bar in his mouth and twanged the flat part.

The Doozer stared, unimpressed by the weird boinging noise. "What's it for?"

"It makes music," Cantus replied.

"You call that music?"

"Yes. What do you call music?"

"Come with me," the Doozer said.

It led them into another room, which was mercifully cool by comparison. There were racks of wooden boxes along the walls. Each one was carved with words or images. Representing what? The contents, of course, Murray thought. The Doozer said, "Open one."

Cantus glanced around. A box that looked as if it had flowering vines twining around it caught his eye. The blooms were carved in bas relief and painted with jewel-like colors. He lifted the lid. A textured metal cylinder glinted within. A soft purring sound started, and the cylinder began to move.

Cantus watched with amazement as a sound like bells came from the box. The cylinder turned slowly—and, Cantus saw, the texture on it was a pattern of raised spots which plucked strips of metal as they passed under them, making them ring. He watched and listened as the sprightly, energetic tune played. It lasted for several minutes, then the cylinder was still.

Cantus closed it with a quiet click. Grinning proudly, the Doozer said, "I'll bet you've never seen anything like that before!"

"A machine that makes music. No, I never have. Are all of these the same?" He gestured at the shelves of boxes.

"They're all different tunes," the Doozer said.

"Why do you capture music in a box? Where is its life?" Cantus asked.

Indignantly the Doozer said, _"Capture_ music? Dozens of Doozers worked to make every one of these boxes. Its life is in the work they put into it. Because of these we can hear tunes by Doozers hundreds of cycles ago as if they were right here! This is their legacy!"

Cantus was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Yes, I understand now. This is how you share and preserve your music."

"That's right," the Doozer said, mollified.

"May I hear more?"

"Well…sure."

* * *

Cantus and Murray spent hours in the music box room, listening to randomly-picked boxes. Doozer music, Murray noted, tended to be bright and uptempo, with occasional marching songs peppered in. Murray found them interesting. Cantus obviously liked them, but beyond that Murray had no idea what was going on in the Fraggle's head. He would open a box and close his eyes as if absorbing the music, or he would watch the workings of the machine. He said nothing.

News of the friendly invasion quickly got around the Doozer colony. Workers coming off shift went to the music room and found two creatures listening to their music with all signs of respect. They wondered what had led them here, and argued over whether the orange one was a Fraggle. He looked like one, but he was much too calm and well-behaved.

When the latest box finished its tune and Cantus closed the lid, Murray nudged him. When Cantus looked over Murray nodded, glancing to the side. Cantus looked back and saw all the puzzled Doozers watching him. He said, "Thank you for sharing your music with me. May we play for you?"

The Doozers, startled by the idea of a Fraggle talking to them, rhubarbed among themselves. Well, that wasn't a veto, Murray thought. They sat on the floor—it seemed more friendly than towering over the Doozers—and Cantus drew the Magic Pipe. Murray readied his guitar, hoping that Cantus knew what he was doing. The music in the Doozer boxes was not like Fraggle or Pisca music.

Cantus began playing. Murray was startled. The tune was nothing like the music that Cantus usually played. It was lively and energetic, with a strong rhythm that Murray picked up on with his guitar. Cantus was playing Doozer music. Murray didn't get Doozer music, but he could follow Cantus' lead.

The Doozers were amazed. The Fraggles they made tools for made the most cacophonous noise when they sang. No Doozer would call _that_ music. In fact, it was their opinion that only Doozers were capable of real music. But these creatures could play wonderfully, even if their instruments were alien.

* * *

The concert lasted for some time. Doozers got off shift, and Doozers had to go on shift, and others brought their children to listen. Cantus was enjoying himself, Murray could tell. What the heck, it was always fun to play for an appreciative audience.

Eventually, though, Cantus lowered his pipe. He said, "Thank you for lending me your ears."

"What are ears?" asked a young Doozer. The others stared at her, surprised. She had spoken to a Fraggle!

"What I hear with. Surely you have ears."

"We hear with our antennae," she said.

"Then thank you for lending me those," Cantus said.

As the concert was obviously over, the audience began to wander off. The Doozer who had first spoken to them said, "I guess I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Comb. Comb Doozer. Um, can we put one of your tunes in a box?"

Cantus replied, "If you remember it."

"If you played it again, we could transcribe it."

Cantus said, "The music we played was improvised. Such tunes are as ephemeral as ripples in a pond."

Comb struggled visibly with this idea. Murray guessed the Doozer was thinking _What a waste!_ But the Doozer rallied and said, If you played another improvisation, we could transcribe it as you play."

"Then you may," Cantus said. "But first, one very important thing must happen. One vital ritual my friend and I never forego."

"What is that?" Comb asked.

"Supper. It's been a long time since lunch."

"Oh, is that all?" The Doozer said. There's a cave right near here where Fraggle food grows. I'll show you how to get there."

* * *

The cave was a veritable garden, with fruit and edible succulents and mushrooms and other edibles. It had a clear pond but, to Murray's dismay, no fish. But he could eat almost anything a Fraggle could eat, so he didn't go hungry.

They had their dinner, then lay back on the rocks to rest. It had been a busy day. Murray said, "Boxes with music inside. It seems like magic."

"Who's to say it isn't? Doozer magic."

"Machinery isn't magic. It's just clever."

"Perhaps," Cantus said. "Yet to one who didn't understand it, it would seem to be magic. Perhaps magic is simply anything we know is true, yet don't understand how."

Murray glanced over at Cantus. The Fraggle was lying back, eyes closed, looking indecently comfortable. "Maybe it is."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Murray are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Comb Doozer and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 13  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a warm summer day. It was, in fact, the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. Some Fraggle colonies celebrated the event. However, the majority were too busy to pay attention to the solstice because midsummer was the Fraggle breeding season. Every Fraggle colony had a festival of some kind for the celebration—and creation—of new life, and compared to that a day that was merely long paled in importance. Cantus and Murray had been traveling a circuit of colonies for years now, and had made a point of seeing each colony's midsummer.

Cantus enjoyed these festivals. Every colony had a different way of commemorating the season. For some it was a private event be shared with one's very closest friends. Some made a big party of it. Most fell somewhere in between these two extremes. Whatever the case, the Minstrels were welcome at this time. They might play music to add to the festivities, or they might merely amuse the children of the colony while the adults were busy.

This colony's midsummer was pleasant and informal. They had a low-key party for the whole colony over the space of a handful of days. People set out their best food for all to share and exchanged little gifts like special delicacies and knitted socks, and of course they sang and played and, every so often, went off for a bit of privacy.

Cantus and Murray finished playing a song for which the colony's Fraggles supplied the lyrics. It worked everywhere: suggest that the song they would play would be this colony's song, and play a bouncy tune. The Fraggles would supply their own lyrics, and Cantus and Murray would learn something about the colony. This song was received with so much gusto that Cantus had begun to wind it down because he was tiring. But then other Fraggles had grabbed their own instruments, so the song continued. Cantus heartily approved.

Now the two Minstrels were sitting at the edge of the stream that flowed through the cavern. They had eaten and sung, and were in the mood to be quiet for a little while. They watched and listened as the Fraggles sang, and danced, and splashed about, and burned off the nervous energy of the season. They made their homes on little coves off the main chamber. The entrances of a few were covered by cloth hangings; they would not be disturbed.

Murray murmured, "The silly season."

"Isn't it wonderful?"

"Trust a Fraggle to say that," Murray teased.

"We take our silliness very seriously."

"Sometimes I think silliness is sacred to Fraggles."

Cantus thought about this. He asked, "What is sacred?"

Murray paused. How like Cantus to turn an offhand remark into a philosophical issue. But the resulting discussions were interesting. "Important. Worth respect. Numinous."

"Numinous?"

"Pisca belief. We think that there's something outside of ourselves that makes the world go."

"Perhaps there is."

"Numinous…well, that's a feeling you get when you see something that seems like part of what makes the world happen. Something sacred. It makes you feel small, and maybe a little afraid, but it's not a bad feeling, because you know that whatever it is, it's good. Like being a baby in your father's arms. He's so much bigger than you, and more powerful and wiser, but he'll keep you safe and help you grow."

Cantus nodded thoughtfully. "What makes the world go?"

Murray shrugged. "Who knows? We don't. We just believe that there's something there because the world's so well arranged."

"I believe something like that. I like to think of it as the world itself. It lives and breathes and shelters and feeds us."

"As if the thing that moves the world isn't separate from the world itself? Like a person isn't separate from his own body? I can see that."

Cantus said, "I'll make a philosopher of you yet."

"Please don't! You need someone to translate for you when you get too abstruse."

They shared a grin. Murray asked, "Is that what Fraggles believe?"

"That's what I suppose. Most Fraggles don't give much thought to the abstract. Who has time when there are songs to be sung, food to be eaten, games to play, and water to swim in?"

"Et cetera," Murray remarked, watching a pair of Fraggles cover another tunnel mouth with a hanging, then duck in behind it.

"I think the whole world is sacred."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Your big toe?"

"It certainly is, to _me."_

Murray shook his head and grinned. "Silly Fraggle."

"Silly is good," Cantus said calmly.

A pink female Fraggle came over some minutes later and said, "May I speak with you, Cantus?"

He looked up at her. She was a friendly acquaintance; they'd had pleasant times in many past visits. She usually had a yellow child attached to one hand. Now she was alone. She seemed uneasy, and was trying to conceal it. "Of course." He got up.

They went off a little ways. He said, "What worries you, Tchia?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I'm not worried. I want to ask a favor of you."

But her hands were clasped together, and her tail was twitching. "Then ask," he said kindly.

She said, "My season is almost upon me. Would you join my Midsummer Ritual?"

For a moment he was too surprised to reply. Seeing his stunned expression, her heart sank. She wanted to say something, to back off, or try to convince him, but she couldn't speak. She could only look back, hoping.

Gently he told her, "I am a wandering minstrel. I must travel through the rock. I cannot stay."

_I didn't ask you to stay!_ But she wouldn't argue the point with him. That was a no, and she had to accept that with good grace. She said, "I understand. I won't bother you again," then turned and left quickly, before he could say any more.

When Cantus returned and sat back down Murray saw the disturbed expression on his face. Something strange had happened. But among Fraggles privacy was a matter of courtesy, and never moreso than at this time of year, so he did not ask.

* * *

Later that day a Fraggle girl, old enough to be on her own but too young to participate in the season for another few years, sought Cantus and Murray out. She asked, "Can I play with you?"

Cantus smiled. Every time he came here Brio asked to play music with them. She showed improvement every time. And lately she had been asking about the other places they had visited. He said, "Of course."

She smiled happily and took out a flute. She held it out to him and said, "I made this myself."

He took the flute. It was made of a smooth, straight section of bamboo, and decorated with shallow carvings that removed the top layer to expose the lighter wood beneath. She had put some work into this. He gave it back and said, "It looks lovely. Why don't you begin?"

She waited until Murray and Cantus were ready with their instruments, then played a slow, pretty tune. They listened for a moment, until they got a feel for it, then joined in.

It was a pleasant, meandering piece they played together, flowing here and there the way a stream did until it ended in the still water of a pond. When they finished Cantus said, "You're coming along very well. When did you make your flute?"

"I cut the bamboo and made it this spring. But I planned it in winter."

Cantus nodded. Murray was impressed. She'd only been playing it for part of a year? She was getting good.

She said, "Someday I'd like to see the other colonies you go to."

"You would," Cantus mused, a thoughtful look on his face. "It can be a long and difficult trek."

"I can learn how," she replied.

Murray stifled a grin. He liked her. She had guts.

Cantus said, "There are things that cannot be learned to be known. Are you willing to face a challenge?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Then meet me when the caves begin to darken and I will test you. Bring a lantern."

* * *

Well before the appointed time Brio was waiting for Cantus, radiating both eagerness and nervousness. He said, "Very good. Come with me."

He led her and Murray to a cave outside of the colony. It was moderately large, with little tunnels feeding into it, blowing wind around the stalactites and other formations. Water dripped and a small waterfall splashed down a wall before plonking into a stream.

Cantus said, "To truly be one with music you must open yourself to it wherever it may be found. You must learn to do the most important thing: to listen."

"Listen to what?" she asked.

"Everything." He gestured around, indicating the cave. "Starting with this cave. Listen to its song."

"For how long?"

"Until you have heard it."

She looked puzzled, but said, "All right."

Cantus said, "We will leave you here. You will be safe."

The two Minstrels left. When they were out of the cave Murray said, "What're you up to?"

"She has potential. I want to see how much."

Cantus headed into another tunnel that led upward. Murray followed. It led into an opening high up on the same cave. They could see down, but the shadows would hide them from view. Murray said, almost soundlessly, "Oh."

"If we speak softly, the sound won't travel," Cantus murmured.

"Mmm."

* * *

They watched for a while. She wandered around in the cave. Sometimes she played a brief passage on her flute, too quietly for them to hear. Murray had to ask, "What do you expect her to hear?"

"What she hears. And I want to know what that is."

"Right." When Cantus didn't want to give a straight answer, it was useless to try to pry one out of him. He changed the subject. "What happened today with Tchia? Or should I not ask?"

Cantus was quiet for a bit. Murray was about to take back the question when he said, "She asked me to share her Midsummer Ritual."

"So? That's hardly the first time."

Cantus didn't answer. True, he was usually invited to celebrate midsummer in the colonies they visited. Fraggles were, after all, very friendly and hospitable. They often invited Murray too. Murray politely declined; he didn't find Fraggles interesting in that respect. However, the Midsummer Ritual…she had, in effect, asked him to sire her child.

Such a request was only made after careful consideration. The decision was always made well in advance of the season, so the mother-to-be could abstain from drinking the yellowflower tea that prevented her from conceiving. She would ask a mate, or a member of her family circle if she was part of one, or a close friend, well in advance. It was an honor to be asked to contribute to the next generation. Such a request was not made lightly, and was never denied.

Usually.

Why had she asked _him?_

Murray watched emotions chase across Cantus' face. He wasn't going to get an answer. He said, "I'm going to get some shuteye. Wake me when you get sleepy."

Cantus nodded.

* * *

Brio stayed in the cave. Well into the night Cantus, feeling himself fading, wakened Murray, who took over the watch. Come morning she was still there. Cantus was surprised. He asked, "Did anything happen?"

"No. I'm going get some sleep. Wake me for lunch."

He really did look worn out. Unlike Fraggles, Pisca could stay awake in the dark. He must have been up all night. Cantus had expected Brio to leave in the night, at which point they would have returned to their bedrolls. Cantus left Murray lying in the tunnel nook and went down into the cave.

She was sitting, her back against a column, her legs drawn up and her arms around them for warmth. She lifted her head and blinked sleepily as he approached. He asked, "What have you heard?"

"A lot of things. But I don't know if I've heard the cave's song," she said, sounding worried.

"Play for me what you have heard," he said mildly.

She looked around herself, then said, "Um, I can't, not just with a flute. Can I get some things? I'll be right back."

"I will wait."

She scampered off. Soon she returned with several of the other instruments she had used in the past. She put them down and picked up her bamboo flute. "There's the wind. When it blows around, it sounds like this." She played a soft, low note, then wandered up and down the scale before letting it trail away when she ran out of breath. She put that down, then picked up a board with several cords strung tightly between nails on either end. She picked up a stick with another cord tied to its ends, so tight the stick bent, and said, There's this sound too." She drew the cord attached to the bent stick across the other cords, producing a low, mournful sound. She pressed her fingers to the cords, raising their pitch to a high squeak. "Bats."

Cantus nodded. "I see."

"And this too." She picked up a pair of cymbals and tapped together, making a bell-like sound. "The water dripping off the stalactites."

"Very good," Cantus said.

She confessed, "I heard those things, but I didn't hear the cave's song. I could make a song of those, but I can only play one thing at a time. And that wouldn't count anyway. Would it?"

"A place's song is made up of everything that is in it. Right now, that includes you and me. Let us listen, and play what we hear."

Cantus closed his eyes and listened, the Magic Pipe in his hands. She started to ready the cord board, but decided that percussion would compliment his playing better. When he began playing, he started with the notes she had originally played on her flute. She chimed in with the cymbals, tapping them with a soft _ting_ to add accents.

The tune they played was short, but long enough. Cantus said, "You have done well. You have listened as well as heard. You have far to go, but you have taken the first step."

"What is the next?" she asked.

"You will know it when you have reached it."

Brio accepted that. Cantus, she knew, liked to keep people guessing. She would keep practicing.

* * *

They returned to the Central Cavern. Brio made a beeline for food. Cantus acquired a piece of flatbread with fruit and nibbled thoughtfully. One could listen to tastes as well as sound, he thought.

He spotted Tchia. When she saw him looking at her she tensed visibly. He approached her and said, "May I speak alone with you?"

"Yes," she said, although she looked like she would rather do anything but.

They went into a side tunnel. He said, "I've seen many things in my travels. I've seen things that you would not believe if you saw them, such as the end of the rock and the fire that burns in the air above it, too bright to look at. I've seen wood and metal that sing. But I can still be surprised. I can even be so startled that I behave unkindly without intending to."

She shook her head. She didn't know what to say.

Gently he asked, "Why did you ask _me?"_

She said, "I have no mate, and I don't want one. I want another child…and I admire you. After the last time you came by, I decided to ask you. I didn't think you would mind. I didn't even think it would surprise you."

"It did. It is an honor I have never been offered before."

Surprised, she said, "Never?"

He shook his head.

She asked hopefully, "Are you…rethinking your answer?"

"If you will forgive my foolishness, I will not make the same mistake again. Is there still time?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

Her smile left nothing more to be said. She took his hand shyly. He clasped it and sang to her,  
"Play me down on the ground,  
Song comes gliding in the summer breezes.  
Raise me high in the sky,  
Song comes drifting through.  
I say one, two, play me, do,  
Let me sound as sweet as you.  
Play me wide, play me long,  
Let me be your song."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, Brio, Murray, and _Let Me Be Your Song_ are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tchia and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 14  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Cold wind blew through the tunnels between colonies. It was uncomfortable, but not yet dangerous. Cantus and Murray still had days to travel before they would have to shelter for the winter.

They were not far from their destination. They had a set of colonies they visited, most less than three days' travel apart, many closer together than that. During a rest break Murray remarked, "The Doozers could set their clocks by us."

Cantus looked up. "What?"

"Just thinking. It's become a routine. We go to the colonies in a loop, in the same order, two days from this colony to the next, then a day and a half to the next, and so on. If we stayed the same time at each one, we'd be like a clock."

Clocks were one of the many amazing little devices of the Doozer colony on their circuit. Doozers made little boxes that played music, other boxes that wove cloth, and even boxes that turned time into numbers. Cantus understood the principle, but found it pointless. What good was numbering time? When you're tired, it's time to rest. When you're hungry, it's time to eat. When it's dark, it's time to sleep. _That_ was meaningful. Counting time was…well, very Doozer-like. Cantus said, "Routine, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Perhaps we ought to do something about that."

"I didn't mean it that way. Just talking."

"Mm-hm."

* * *

They continued on when they were rested. Cantus stopped at a dark side tunnel that they had passed by every time before and peered in. He tilted his head, listening. Then he made a blaze mark with a bit of chalk and entered. Murray followed. He didn't know what Cantus was up to, but he trusted his judgment.

Cantus said, "There are people this way."

"Yeah, I know."

Surprised, Cantus said, "You can hear?"

"Nah, my ears aren't as good as yours. But look here."

Murray pointed to an image on the tunnel wall. It was a stocky-looking creature standing upright and holding a line in one hand. Murray brushed his hand over it. The lines were grooved into the rock. He said, "Huh, carved in." Usually cave pictures were painted on. It took a lot of work to chip into the stone itself. Yet it was just a single creature holding a stick. _Go figure_, he thought as they continued past it.

* * *

They passed by more images, all variations on that theme: squat things holding sticks. Some were alone, some were in groups. They were all scratched into the stone. Someone really wanted to make a point. Murray had no idea what that point was.

They were in an open cavern, examining a mural, when they were startled by a sharp clack between themselves. A bamboo rod clattered to the ground. Cantus picked it up. Its end was a sharp, fire-hardened point. It had only been slightly blunted when it struck the rock.

Murray looked back. It must have come from behind a cluster of boulders. Cantus turned and, spear in hand, stalked over to the boulders. He went around one side; Murray took the other. Sitting behind it was a husky, furry creature with nasty-looking fangs. Cantus brandished the spear as if to stab with it, and screamed. The creature roared back, and scrabbled around for something to throw. All it could find was small pebbles. It flung those at Cantus, startling but not hurting him.

The standoff lasted less than a minute. The furry creature ran out of breath and, curiously, made no move either to attack or escape. It backed against the boulders, ready to defend itself with its hands and feet. Well, one foot; the other leg was stuck straight out and didn't look very mobile. Cantus, spear still raised, said "Why did you throw this at us? We've done no harm to you," in a tone of reproach.

"Give me my spear and leave me," it—he—snarled.

Cantus replied, "No, I don't think so. You might throw it at someone else."

Murray squatted down. "That leg looks bad," he observed.

The creature startled—he had not seen the Pisca—and swatted at him. Cantus rapped the offending arm with the pole, then pulled it out of reach before the creature could reclaim it. "Stop that. We are traveling minstrels. We harm nobody. Are you injured?"

The creature snarled, "Leave me alone!"

Cantus shrugged. "Have it your way."

Cantus walked away. The creature shouted, "Give me back my spear!"

"We will be resting in this cave. I see no need to give you a second shot at us."

Cantus walked back to the mural. Murray followed him and said, "Now we know what the pictures meant. Watch out for these guys, they have spears and nasty attitudes."

"Yes." Cantus set the spear against the rock wall and took off his pack.

"What's on your mind?" Murray asked.

"He was frightened of us, and angry. He is also injured and weak. Perhaps we can convince him to accept our help."

"How are we going to do that?"

"I will build a fire. Go catch some fish."

"Right."

The creature watched, cautiously peeking from behind its boulder shield, as Murray went to the stream that ran through the cave. He bent down and seemed to feel around in the cold water, moving very slowly. Then he abruptly lifted out a fish with his bare hands. It flopped around until a rock ended its struggles. Soon a second fish joined the first, and he walked back to the mural.

The creature had to pull himself over farther to see the campfire that the Fraggle had built. The pain in his leg, which had faded to a dull ache, flared up and made his eyes sting when he moved it. He watched as the Pisca warmed its wet limbs in front of the fire, then spitted the two fish on sticks and set them to roast over the fire while the Fraggle wandered about, looking for grazing fodder.

When Cantus returned with some fruit and mushrooms in hand, Murray murmured, "He's been watching us."

"Yes."

"Why don't I go have a word with him. I think it'd work better with me than you."

Cantus nodded. "Go ahead."

Murray picked the fish up by their sticks and walked over to the boulders. He said, "Hey. Are you hungry?"

He held out one of the fish. The creature grabbed for it. Murray let him snatch the fish away. He juggled the hot fish between his hands for a moment before getting a grip on the stick. Then he tore in, burning its mouth in the process.

Murray munched on the tail end of his fish, which was cooler. The creature was either stupid or starving. From the way he was wolfing the fish down, Murray was inclined to guess the latter. If he was injured, he might have been here for some time, unable to feed himself. If he was an herbivore he'd have found some sustenance here, but judging from his teeth he was a carnivore. Murray waited while he decimated the fish.

When there was only a stick and some bones left Murray said, "What's your name?"

"Brool." It sounded like a growl.

"I'm Murray, and over there's Cantus. You're hurt, right? How long have you been out here?"

"Two days."

"It's too cold to hang around that long. Look, we got started off on the wrong foot. Come over and get warm by the fire, no screaming and throwing things, okay?"

Brool wanted to refuse, to fight this irritating scrawny thing. But he also wanted to live. Left out here by himself, he would die of exposure. He was already weak. He said, "All right. But I can't walk."

"We'll help." He stood up and beckoned. "Hey, Cantus."

Cantus put down the spear—he had been ready, just in case—and walked over. The creature had calmed down, though he still didn't look friendly. Murray said, "Let's get him to the fire."

This took some effort. They could carry him easily enough, as much of his mass was fur. However, touching his lower leg caused him terrible pain. In the end Murray held him under the shoulders and Cantus supported his backside. It was awkward, but it got him there. They set him by the fire. Murray went back to the stream. Cantus began examining his leg. "Where are you injured?"

"Here." Brool tried to bend and point, but that hurt too much. He compromised by gingerly touching his good foot to his shin.

Cantus carefully ran his finger down the front of the bone. There, he could feel the swelling halfway down. The bone continued on straight, so it wouldn't have to be set. Which was good, as neither he nor Murray had ever set a bone before. They knew the basic first aid and other techniques necessary for survival between the colonies, but that was out of their league. He asked, "Was it broken two days ago?"

"Yeah."

"It seems like a clean break. It needs to be kept straight to heal." Cantus took the spear, compared its length to that of Brool's leg, then broke it over his knee into three pieces. Then he emptied the pockets of his vest, took it off, and wrapped it around the spear pieces and Brool's lower leg to form a splint. Brool winced and clenched his fists as Cantus tied it into place with some of the twine from his pack.

By the time he was done with that Murray had come back with another fish and spitted it to roast over the fire. Then he sat and warmed his cold, wet limbs again, hoping that that was the last time he'd have to go into that icy water today. Brool was calmer now. Well, Murray supposed, he attacked them because he was scared and helpless. Which seemed like a stupid reason to attack someone as opposed to keeping quiet and letting them walk on by, or, better yet, asking for help.

After a while Murray took the fish out of the fire and held it out to Brool, stick first. "Here. Don't burn yourself this time."

"Thanks," Brool said in a low voice, and began eating.

Satisfied that the situation was well under control, Cantus picked up his magic pipe and began playing softly. Murray looked up, then, what the heck, he got out his guitar and joined in the tune.

Brool stared. They were huddled around a campfire out in the middle of nowhere, and they were playing music? The pipe spoke with an unearthly double voice. Murray's guitar was strangely shaped, but the sound was familiar, and oddly comforting. It relaxed him enough for two days' worth of fatigue to overcome him, and he fell asleep.

* * *

Brool awoke very early the next morning to find that he was still alive and had not been killed in his sleep by alien creatures. Said creatures were in their bedrolls, asleep around the cold ashes of the fire.

He could get away from them now. He could sneak away, crawling on his hands and one knee…but why? What for? Where would he go, even if he could get far enough before they woke up? He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

* * *

A little later Brool woke up when Cantus and Murray began stirring. The two yawned and stretched, then got out of their bedding and rolled it back up. Brool looked at his leg, and realized that it didn't hurt. For the first time since he broke it, it didn't hurt. The splint had kept it still enough for the pain to fade. That couldn't last, though. They wouldn't be here for long. As soon as he moved, he'd feel it.

After they packed up Cantus said, "Where is your home? We will take you back there."

Brool said, "No! I can't go back."

Murray said, "What, because of your leg? We'll get you back."

Brool shook his head emphatically. "Leave me here."

"If you stay here alone, you will likely die. What makes going back home so unpleasant compared to that?"

Cantus's oh-so-reasonable tone irked Brool. But he could see they wouldn't leave him alone until he explained. Reluctantly he said, "I was on a First Raid. My third one."

After a long pause Murray said, "And?"

Brool glared at him. "Who could go back after that?!"

Cantus asked, "What's a first raid?"  
"Don't you _know?"_

Cantus said, "We have visited many colonies throughout the rock. Some customs are shared, and some are unique. This is one we have not heard of before now. What is it?"

_Outsiders!_ Why should Brool explain the basics of his people's lives to these creatures? Because, he told himself grimly, he needed them now. He said, "I have to make a raid on another tribe and come back with something. When I do, I'll be an adult." The two Minstrels waited for him to go on. Grimly he said, "This was my third try. I only lived because they chased me away, then left me like this. If I go home, I'll be a child. I failed three times. Who gets a fourth chance?"

Cantus and Murray were appalled. What kind of people were these, that made someone attack another people alone to prove his adulthood? Cantus asked, "What will you do, then?"

"I don't know. Go somewhere else."

_Someplace you tried to raid and failed?_ Murray thought.

Cantus said, "We travel between colonies. It may be that you will find things that interest you if you come with us."

Murray looked sharply at Cantus. Was he actually inviting this creature to tag along? How could he follow them when he couldn't even walk? But he said nothing, because he knew it would be futile to object. And, well, he didn't want to leave this guy behind to perish, no matter how bad a first impression he had made.

Brool said nothing, but Cantus could see that he was interested enough to listen. He continued, "The colonies we visit are mostly Fraggles. They are kind people—to those who are kind in return."

Brool knew a warning when he heard it. He said, "I'm in no shape to fight. I was never much good at it anyway."

"Do you want to be?" Murray asked.

Brool shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'll never be a warrior now."

Cantus said softly, "You can be whatever you decide you will be. You could be a battler. You could be a traveler. You could hide, or you could learn. You must make yourself. Starting now."

Brool stared at Cantus. The Fraggle looked calmly. Brool said, "I can't do anything now."

"That, too, is a decision."

Brool shook his head. The Fraggle made no sense. He glanced around and saw their packs. Each had a bedroll and an instrument. Cantus's strange pipe and Murray's guitar. Last night's music hadn't been a hallucination. He said, "Can I see that?" indicating the guitar.

"Okay," Murray said, sounding not entirely comfortable, and slipped it out from under the cords and handed it to Brool. Brool touched the strings with his fingertips. The notes were in different place, but the principles were the same. He sounded out a snatch of the tune he had heard while half asleep.

Cantus and Murray exchanged surprised glances. Then Murray grinned. Somehow, music seemed to figure into everything they did. Cantus said, "Do you have a guitar?"

"I did. But I gave it away before my first raid. Music is for children."

"That's messed up," Murray said.

Cantus said, "You may play your life long if you wish. Music is for young and old alike."

Brool didn't know how to answer that. He had given up the possessions and pastimes of childhood, yet three times he had failed to prove himself an adult. Now adulthood was out of his grasp, and music was a poor boobyprize. But beggars and children can't be choosers, he thought. And these creatures, weird though they were, were kind enough to feed him and splint his leg. There was only one thing to do: throw himself on their mercy. He said, "Can I follow you?"

"Yes," Cantus replied.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, and Brool are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	15. Chapter 15

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 15  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Spring had finally declared its intention to stay. The icicles had melted, and the stream no longer grew ice around its edges in the night. Green things were pushing out of the ground and cracks in the rock walls. The breezes blowing through the tunnels were pleasant, not chilling.

A Fraggle healer was examining Brool's leg. He probed through the thick fur, feeling the shape of the bone and muscle underneath. Brool sat quietly, watching him. So did Murray.

The Fraggle, this cave's healer, said, "Is it still itching? Or stiff?"

Brool replied, "Not any longer. It's just weak."

"You haven't been out of the splint very long. It'll be weak for a while, until you build it up again. But don't try to do it too quickly. Walk without a stick as long as you can, but when you get tired, use it. And if you feel sharp pain, _stop_."

"I will," Brool said, with minimal annoyance at the instructions he had heard a dozen times already. He was healing from a broken leg. He owed his quick recovery—and very likely his life—to the Minstrels who had come to his aid despite his having thrown his spear at them, and to the Fraggle healers who had treated him without asking who he was or where he came from. It was strange, and, as time went on, a little humbling. Earlier on he would have called these Fraggles naïve and foolish, but they lived uncomplicated, happy lives without worrying about raids or status or much of anything. In winter they shared everything, even body heat, so that everyone would benefit. If that was naïveté, the world would be happier with more of it.

The healer said, "You don't need me. Your leg is healing well, and by summer you'll have forgotten which one was broken. I'm going to see how Tchia is doing."

Brool said, "Thanks," as the healer gathered up his things and left.

Murray, who had observed without commenting, said, "It won't be long now. Got any plans?"

"Not yet," Brool replied.

"We can find our way back to where you came from. If you wanted to-"

"No!" Brool snapped. Lowering his voice, he said, "I won't go back there."

Murray leaned back lazily, his hands behind his head. "Isn't there anyone you miss?"

"Yeah. But…I told you, if I went back I'd be a child again. For the rest of my life."

"Mmm."

"And…I like it out here. I want to see more."

"You do," Murray said in a tone of voice borrowed from Cantus.

"The people out here are so different. Not the people by themselves, but when they're in groups." He didn't know how to put it into words; he wasn't as articulate as Cantus or Murray. As individuals, Fraggles were not that different from his kind. He had met Fraggles that reminded him of people he'd grown up with. But as colonies they behaved very differently. The tribes of his kind lived in a continual low-level feud, whereas Fraggle colonies happily coexisted if they were close together, and ignored each other if they were far apart. Why couldn't his people be like that? The longer he lived out here, the more insane his culture seemed.

Brool said, "I want to find a new home. The places we've visited so far are nice, but they don't feel like someplace I could live in. I want to travel with you Minstrels until I find a home. I won't slow you down any more."

"We're not in a rush. Well, we were hurrying _this_ time, but this was a special case." Murray grinned. "It sounds fine with me. Cantus calls the shots, of course. You can ask him, but first you'll have to get his attention, and good luck with that." Now Brool grinned back.

Normally Cantus and Murray traveled a long, unhurried loop between Fraggle colonies. They got to each when they got to it; they were on no schedule. However, this time Cantus had been adamant about their destination. Brool had been the slowest of the three, and he had expected they would leave him behind in a Fraggle colony, but they hadn't. And, to Brool's credit, he had been useful along the way. He knew how to convince the beasts that lived out in these tunnels that they would not be an easy lunch. He could have killed one, but neither Cantus nor Murray would let him. All they needed was for it to leave them alone. If they wouldn't eat it, then killing it would be a waste of a life, they insisted. Brool still couldn't believe that they would care about a Poison Cackler.

At least he had proven his worth as a warrior, to himself at least. Cantus and Murray—well, they appreciated not being slaughtered, but they were more interested in his ability to pick a tune on Murray's guitar. Why was that so special to them? Anyone could do that. Certainly any Fraggle could, and furthermore they would whether you wanted them to or not. Fraggle colonies were like a hive of children.

And yet...he enjoyed making music. Now that he had given up all hope of being a warrior, he could admit to that guilty pleasure. It might be frivolous, but, when he looked back at it from a distance, it was much better than the constant feuding between the tribes where he came from. It did no harm and brought pleasure. And the Fraggles valued it highly, and honored Cantus. Either the Fraggles were crazy, or Brool's people were. Well, Brool had decided who he would rather live with.

A young green Fraggle, who had been hanging back while the healer examined Brool, came over to them, carrying a board. She plopped down crosslegged by Brool and said, "Try this."

Brool looked at the "this." The board had bars attached to each end. When set on its back, the bars stuck up. She had strung cords between them. He plucked the cords with the tips of his short, blunt claws. Her face lit with a smile. She asked, "Are they too close together?"

He plucked the cords some more, the strummed them. "No, that's fine."

"Good!" She picked up the board and hustled away.

He watched her go. When she had heard that he liked to play guitar but had to borrow Murray's because he did not have one of his own, she had decided to make one for him. Despite her youth, she had gone about the task very seriously, even configuring the placement of the cords to fit his large hands. It was hard to believe that she expected no payment, that Fraggles did things like this simply because they wanted to. They could be generous without even thinking of it as generosity.

Murray said, "She does fast work, but it'll still take her days to make it."

"Will we still be here by then?"

"Oh, sure, don't worry about that. If I know Cantus, he dropped word to her that you needed a guitar in the first place."

"Yeah." Cantus loved music. It was, as far as Brool could tell, the driving force in his life. Of course he would want those traveling with him to have instruments.

Cantus appeared. His fur was dripping wet. He beckoned to them and said urgently, "Come to the warm spring!" Then he left again.

Murray hopped to his feet and hurried to the smaller cave that housed a spring that ran warm even in winter. He pulled back the hanging that covered the door and went in, with Brool behind him. The spring was only large enough to accommodate several Fraggles. Now four were in the water. Tchia was sitting at the side, looking very tired but pleased. A small yellow boy, her son, was by her. An older female was tending to Tchia. And, in her arms, was an orange-furred newborn.

Cantus sat by Tchia, his legs in the water. Murray squatted at the edge and looked at the infant. All babies looked generic for the first year or so, no matter what their species, but the soft, downy fur extending down its arms and legs was a dead giveaway as to its parentage. Grinning, Murray said, "Good work, boss."

Cantus replied, "I cannot take the credit for this. I merely hummed a tune. Tchia took that tune and turned it into a song."

_Yeah, right. Then why do you look so smug?_ Murray thought, amused. Well, Cantus had every right.

Brool murmured to Murray, "Is _everything_ music with him?"

"You get used to it," Murray replied.

Cantus heard them, but he didn't care. He was admiring the little orange Fraggle who had just come into the world. It was hard to believe it was real.

Tchia had been through this once before, and recognized the symptoms of baby thrall. She would have liked to just sit in the warm, comfortable water and cuddle her new child, but she was exhausted and had not slept in much too long. She said to Cantus, "Would you like to hold him?"

"Yes," he said softly.

She raised the baby off her chest, holding the tiny body in one hand and supporting the head with the other. Carefully Cantus took him the same way. Instinctively Cantus held him to his chest, covering the wet fur with his hands. Out of the warm spring he could become chilled; infants were not so resilient until they grew a bit.

Blindly, because his eyes would not open for several more weeks, the baby pressed his face into Cantus's fur. Cantus felt the warmth of his breath, saw his little body expand and contract as he breathed. The tiny limbs and tail twitched gently, aimlessly.

The child was so light in his hands, Cantus thought, yet in that tiny body Cantus could feel the immeasurable weight of the future.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, Murray, Brio, and Brool are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Tchia, the unnamed Fraggles, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 16  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The two Minstrels, Murray and Cantus, walked through the tunnels, playing a meandering tune as they went. Brool carried a guitar, but did not join the music. Compared with the Minstrels, he felt clumsy and talentless. When they were playing, he'd rather listen. And watch; as they approached flowers bloomed and cave creatures emerged from their lairs and shells. It was as if all life in the Rock was their audience.

It was a warm summer. They had spent several months in one colony, which, according to Murray, was unheard of. But they had had good reasons. Brio, a young Fraggle, showed promise, and Cantus had been instructing her in his unique way. He set strange tasks for her, and somehow she was able to figure out what he was actually after, with occasional hints from Murray. It seemed bafflingly mystical to Brool, but, like so many things, it worked whether he understood it or not.

And, of course, there was Tarin. Cantus's son had been born to a Fraggle in this colony. Cantus was utterly enchanted with the googly-eyed ball of orange fluff. As the Minstrels operated on no timetable but their own instincts, Cantus had not led them elsewhere for a while. But the summer solstice—and the noisy revelry thereof—had passed, and now it was time to move on.

* * *

After some hours Cantus and Murray went into a small tunnel, barely more than a crack. Brool wondered about this; they usually followed the main tunnels. But he knew by now that when they did something unexpected they had their reasons. He found out what that reason was as soon as he came to the end of the short passage. It led to a cozy cave, one with water trickling down one side into a small rock pool, just big enough to drink and fill their canteens from. There was a spot in the center that held ashes from previous campfires. A hole in the ceiling provided ventilation. All that was missing was foliage for Cantus and Murray to graze on. But they had supplies in their packs.

Cantus and Murray put down their packs and, after drinking from the pool, sat back on the mossy stones. Brool did too. He half expected them to pick to their instruments again, but they did not. The Magic Pipe and Murray's guitar lay on top of their packs, quiet for once. Cantus said to Murray, "Do you remember when we talked about 'sacred' and 'numinous'?"

"Yeah. That was a while ago," Murray answered.

"It was."

"What about it?"

"That's what I felt the first time I held Tarin. At that moment, nothing else was real."

"Not even music?" Murray teased.

Cantus didn't answer.

Murray understood how Cantus had felt, he thought, though he had not experienced it himself. "Yeah, that sounds right. I saw the look on your face."

"It was hard to leave," Cantus said softly. "But I know we will return."

"'Course we will."

Brool shook his head without thinking about it. Murray noticed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Thinking of what?" Cantus asked.

Brool said, "I don't understand. How _could_ you leave?"

Cantus smiled. "A wise question, for one who does not know the answer. The answer is, with great difficulty."

"Why leave, then? Even if Tchia isn't your wife?"

After a startled pause Cantus answered, "Fraggles don't practice marriage. We love each other, we form families, but we do not bind ourselves in that way."

"I know. I don't understand why, but I know it. But how could you leave your own child behind?"

Calmly Cantus answered, "He is not _mine_. If anything, I am his."

Murray said, "Can I take this?" Cantus nodded. Murray told Brool, "Looks to you like he just abandoned his kid, right?"

"I didn't say that," Brool said defensively.

"Sounds like that's what's on your mind, though. I guess that's what it looks like if you don't know Fraggles that well. They're weird. The strangest thing about them is that they aren't possessive. Hard to believe, I know, but they just don't think like that—_my_ food, my cave, _my_ property, _my_ territory." He made a clutching gesture with both hands, as if holding something close, afraid it would be taken away. "They don't make tight families the way most other people do because they don't think _my_ wife, _my_ child. Fraggles don't claim each other. They also don't shut each other out. That baby won't even want for love and attention. Not because he's the kid of a famous, mysterious Minstrel, but because he's a Fraggle. The whole colony is his family."

Brool shook his head. "I understand what you're saying. I just find it hard to believe."

Cantus said, "When you first met us, you would not have believed we would aid you. You understand now, don't you?"

Brool nodded silently.

Murray said, "This is one of those things that you just have to take on faith until you understand it. When you travel with Cantus, you do a lot of that." The two Minstrels shared a grin.

Brool said, "I guess I will. I want to. Keep traveling with you, that is."

With no sign of surprise Cantus said, "Oh?"

Brool explained, "I like traveling. I want to see different things. If I stopped, I'd always wish I'd gone on. I'd always wonder who's out there. I can pull my weight. I can fight!"

Cantus brushed that aside. "A Minstrel must be willing to wander, and to listen, and to wonder. A Minstrel must want to unite the Rock with music, and want it enough to dedicate his life to it. He must be tested to know that the path is the right one for him."

Brool was framing a reply, but Cantus picked up his pipe and began to play. It was a slow tune in a minor key. Murray listened for a few bars, then joined in. After a minute it changed to a major key, and the tempo increased slightly. Cantus looked pointedly at Brool. Brool reached for his guitar, and when Cantus nodded he picked it up and began to play. He was not as good as they were, not by a long shot, but in his time with them he had learned. He had learned that even small touches made a difference. He could play in the background and add flavor to the music, even though his part was barely noticeable. Which was fine. Joining their music, enriching it just a little bit, was a surprisingly powerful pleasure.

When they finished playing Cantus lowered the pipe, but he did not put it down. "What did you think about that?"

Brool hesitated. How did you answer a question like that? He said, "Well, it kind of reminded me of earlier today."

"How so?"

"Well… it started out not sad, just a little melancholy. Kind of like the look on your face when we left. And then there were bits of the music you played while we were walking in the tunnels."

"You have listened," Cantus said approvingly. "But what is different?"

Brool was mystified. He looked at Murray. The Pisca shrugged. Brool said, "I don't know."

"What is the difference between the tune we played in the tunnels and the one we just finished?"

Brool thought, they weren't the same tune! There were similarities, leitmotifs and chord progressions and structure and such, but he couldn't point to any one part of the music and say that was different. Except—"In the tunnels, only you and Murray were playing. Just now, I was playing too?"

Cantus smiled. "Yes! The song is made up of those who make it. It joins people together, as it has joined us."

Brool said, "I used to wonder what that meant, 'unite the rock with music'. I think I'm starting to see."

Murray said, "It's something you have to do to believe."

Brool said, "It doesn't happen to my people."

"Not at all?" Cantus asked softly.

"Well, maybe with children," Brool said.

Cantus nodded. "Now, show us something."

"Show you…?"

"With music," Murray said. "Go on, don't be shy. Nobody here but us Minstrels."

"Oh. Um…" He cast about. He wasn't like Cantus and Murray; he couldn't paint scenes with music. But worse than trying and failing was not trying at all, according to them anyway. He began by playing the first thing that came to mind. It was a children's song, one that set the rhythm for many games.

Cantus and Murray listened. At first Brool was tense, trying too hard to make it sound perfect. When he relaxed he began to experiment with it a little, letting the tune grow up, taking a wistful turn. After a minute Cantus began playing softly. His melody wove through Brool's music. Murray joined in as well, also adding to the tune without taking control of it.

When they finished a few minutes later Cantus said, "It is a shame that the children of your people lose that music."

Brool nodded, then realized what Cantus had said. "You could tell what that was?"

Murray said. "You told us. Just not with words."

Cantus said, "You showed us how the children of your people can sing, and how it feels to have that taken away from you."

"I was thinking about that," Brool admitted. "But I didn't know it would come through in the music."

"To show, to teach, to learn through music, that is the work of a Minstrel," Cantus told him. "Now you have shown us that you can do it, and, more importantly, you have shown yourself."

Murray said, "Congrats, you passed."

Brool said in disbelief, "This was a _test?_ I didn't know!"

"Would it have helped?" Cantus asked.

"I thought—I thought there'd be more to it than this."

"There is," Cantus assured him. "All of life is a test, just as there is no end to the work of making music. If I ever find an end I will be very sorry."

Brool said, "I—I'd like it, but I'm not as good as you are. Not even close."

Cantus said, "Music comes from the heart, not the fingers. You have already learned much. You will learn more, and keep on learning as long as you wander with us."

Brool looked at the two, sitting on the mossy rocks, holding their instruments in their laps, ready either to play again or to relax quietly. At that moment they looked content and happy, as if they had exactly what they wanted in life. He said, "I want to."

Murray said, "Then welcome aboard, kid."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, Murray, Brio, and Brool are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 17  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It's been fun, but now I've got to go.  
Life is way too short to take it slow.  
But before I go and hit the road,  
Tell me when, when can I see you again?

- from _When Can I See You Again_ by Owl City

* * *

Water sprinkled down into a pond. The stalactites above were long and thin, like crystals, and hollow. Fraggles enjoyed their continuous light drizzle as they swam and played.

The Minstrels were making music at one side of the Central Cavern. They now numbered four. Brio had joined them when she felt ready to leave her home colony. This had come as a surprise to no one. She had been hanging around the Minstrels as long as they had been visiting her colony, and Cantus, recognizing her talent, had been subtly instructing and testing her. She met his challenges and asked for more, and showed the intuition and understanding that a Minstrel needed. By the time she asked to join them she had already been accepted.

Murray and Cantus had been traveling for a long, long time. For people who reckoned time in terms of days rather than years it was an uncountably long time. So, they didn't bother to count it. It was long enough for them to have become established as honorary members of the colonies they regularly visited, and for Cantus to have accepted more than a few midsummer invitations.

Brool had been a Minstrel for years now, and he was glad he had fallen in with this group. Their mission of uniting the rock with music was not mumbo-jumbo; music could bypass barriers and bring people together. It was sad that his own people eschewed music as childish, and even sadder that they considered war a more appropriate pastime. He was lucky to have been left to perish, then found by Cantus and Murray.

Although the Fraggle philosophy of life could be summed up as 'play now, worry later' they were not as hopelessly frivolous as they appeared. In times of crisis they would band together without hesitation. Anyone who thought Fraggles weak and foolish had never seen them protect a child from a predator or dig someone out of a rockslide. They didn't always succeed, but they always tried. In Brool's opinion, that was brave indeed.

When they weren't frolicking they showed other admirable qualities, too. They loved their children, and although their family arrangements appeared slipshod, they _worked_ and made them happy. Certainly someone who had offspring in half a dozen colonies wouldn't be considered wise among Brool's kind. But those children had been born because Cantus was so highly respected as a sage. And nobody thought twice about his children being raised by others. After all, that's how it had been planned from the beginning.

Brool found it strange and interesting that although all the Fraggle colonies they had visited shared the same basic culture, they had different rituals and special days. One would honor the summer solstice; another would ignore that day but have a festival for their breeding season, which came at midsummer. Some regarded that not as a time of festival, but simply a time to be enjoyed, and another considered it a very personal time, to be observed in private by its participants. In some colonies people chose their birthdays, in others they held them any time a Fraggle wanted to celebrate having been born, and one colony had a big birthday party at the beginning of Spring called the Birthday of the World, and on that day everyone was one year older. Brool had initially found it baffling—all of the tribes of his own kind had the same rituals and sacred days, though they agreed on little else—but, as Murray told him, don't worry about it, because it works for them. And, he thought, the staggered schedule allowed the Minstrels to travel, lending their music to whatever event the current colony was celebrating.

This colony had a unique springtime ritual. If any babies were born that year, they would be brought to the pool to be named and officially welcomed into the colony. Cantus officiated at that ceremony, despite not being a resident. The reason for that was sitting among Minstrels' current audience.

The Minstrels finished playing and put down their instruments. A little green girl—one much furrier than the others in the colony, evidence of her ancestry—who had been eagerly listening jumped up and grabbed Cantus's hand, exclaiming in a high, piping voice, "Come swim!"

He smiled and, after taking off his robe, let the child half his size drag him over to the pond, which was already populated by Fraggles of various ages. She flopped in with a splash, and he slid into the water after her.

A splash fight broke out. Everyone got splattered indiscriminately from all directions. Almost indiscriminately; the green girl made a point of aiming for Cantus. He retaliated by cupping his hands at the surface of the water and sending a blinding wave back at her.

* * *

After the day's horseplay ran its course the Fraggles ate their evening meal. The colony ate together, with many Fraggles contributing. Some gathered food from the cavern gardens. Others cooked it. The children who tended the gardens by weeding and caring for the plants made sure to let everyone know when food they had helped to grow was served.

The Minstrels ate together. Brool, being a carnivore, had his own provisions, which he had hunted in the tunnels between colonies. Cantus was quiet, eating without paying much attention to his food, a faraway look in his eyes. Murray knew that look. He had something on his mind. It couldn't be anything to worry about, though. Lately life had been pretty easy. They traveled between a set of colonies, and were welcome everywhere they went.

After they finished eating Cantus said, "We must move on."

"Right now?" Murray asked.

"Tomorrow morning. We will go that way," he said, gesturing to the south.

Murray gave him a funny look. "There's no exit on that side."

"That is why we must go in that direction."

Brool said, "You want to explore? Why?"

Cantus nodded. "Why indeed."

Murray said, "Seems like we've done what we set out to do, uniting the rock with music. What's out there for us?"

"Exactly."

Murray sighed. "Cantus," he said, looking the Fraggle in the eyes, "everyone says there's nothing out there but beasts."

There was a time for mystery, Cantus knew, and a time for answers. "Who is this 'everyone' who knowsso much? Have any of these Fraggles ever left the safety of their colony? Murray, we began this journey years ago by walking into the unknown, and look where it has led us. We have done well thus far, as you said. But the journey is not over yet. If we stop now we will simply be playing pretty tunes and wondering what else we might have done. That isn't enough for me."

Murray studied him for a moment, then said, "You really think there's somebody out there?"

"I really do."

Murray shook his head, then said, "That was enough for me when we started out. Okay, I'm in."

Cantus looked at Brool and Brio. Brio just nodded. Brool said, "I don't understand, but I'm used to that."

Murray told him, "It comes with being a Minstrel. Cantus is the only one who knows what he's doing, though sometimes I'm not sure he does, either."

Cantus smiled and nodded.

* * *

When the Minstrels packed up their bedrolls the next day, the other Fraggles turned out to wish them a good journey. The little green girl hugged Cantus around the middle and said brightly, "Bye!"

He knelt and told her, "We may be gone for a long time, Clio-"

"How long?" she interrupted.

"Many, many days."

"You always go for many, many days," she scoffed.

"This time it may be many, many, _many_ days."

"That's a long time!"

"But however long it takes, I will come back. Remember that."

"Are you going to find new songs?" she asked.

"I hope so."

"Then sing them to us when you come back."

He chuckled. "I will."

She hugged him again, then whispered in his ear, "Bye, Papa." She knew he wasn't really her Papa; he hadn't raised her. But she loved her sire, and called him that anyway. It was their secret.

"I love you. Goodbye," he said softly.

He stood and raised his pipe. As the music began, the Minstrels walked out of the Central Cavern.

* * *

They exited via a side passage, then took a branch that led south. Cantus led them, playing the Magic Pipe, which warded off many dangerous cave creatures. Murray, following close behind, blazed their trail by marking cave formations every so often. They could easily add large passages to their mental maps, but these twisty little tunnels could be tricky.

They walked for several days through dark passages. Darkness was dangerous. Ditzies, the tiny creatures whose bodies lit the caves, lived on the songs of the colonies' inhabitants. Where there were no people, there was no song, and the caves were dark. It was fortunate that some Ditzies had followed them, feeding on their music.

The Minstrels were worried. All, that was, except Cantus. He strode forward into the unknown as if perfectly at home. Either he was sure they would soon find other people, Murray thought, or he was very good at pretending he was. But he trusted Cantus, and followed him willingly.

* * *

Their faith was rewarded when the tunnel they had been following opened into a larger room. They could see how big it was. Light! People lived here! Cantus, who was ready to see new faces, quickened his pace. They followed the light toward what they hoped would be a Fraggle colony.

The passage twisted, and they found themselves at one end of a gallery. They stopped and stared. There were colorful images and patterns on the wall, some painted and others woven into tapestries. But the only living things in the hall were large, brown bugs. They were milling around, some clustered in groups of two or three.

"What's this?" Murray murmured to Cantus.

"Where there is light, there must be music," Cantus replied, and glanced at the other Minstrels. They knew their cues. Brool took his guitar off his pack, and Brio got out her cymbals. Murray was carrying his guitar backward, with the instrument resting on his pack and the strap across his chest; he only had to swing it around to be ready. Cantus raised his pipe, and, playing their instruments, they walked into the gallery.

The bugs turned and stared at them in amazement. As the Minstrels approached they saw that Cantus had guessed right. These 'bugs' were people. They moved purposefully and spoke among themselves, and some wore clothing or adornments. They let the Minstrels pass unchallenged.

Cantus led them to the center of the gallery, then stopped. When they finished their piece Cantus lowered his pipe and said to the astonished creature that had gathered around them, "Greetings. I am Cantus, and we are the Minstrels. We wander through the Rock, playing music for those who will listen."

"What kind of music is that?" one of the beetle-like people asked.

"It is our music," Cantus replied. "It is music of Fraggles, Pisca, and Ainu, all together."

They began playing again. The beetle-like people watched for a little longer, then began to drift away.

That surprised Cantus. Their music had always fascinated people before. These creatures, however, weren't interested. He could not read their faces; they seemed to be formed of leather, and if they held any expression he could not see it. Were they tone deaf? But Ditzies lived here, and they must feed on something. He lowered the pipe and asked one of the few creatures who had not wandered away, "Is our music so unappealing?"

"It's…different," it answered politely.

"What is your music like?"

The creature stopped and thought, then beckoned and said, "Come here."

It led them into a large chamber. The high wall opposite the entrance was riddled with wide holes, some covered with tapestries. There were beetle people in some of them. Homes or resting chambers, Cantus thought.

The being led them to a cylindrical piece of wood as tall as a Fraggle twice as wide. It was mounted on a frame that held it above the ground. The inside was textured interestingly, with triangular notches cut into the thick sides. He could not see through it because something opaque was covering the other end. When he walked around to the other side he realized what he was looking at: the biggest drum he had ever seen. The texture on the inside must affect the sound, he thought as the beetle-like creature picked up a pair of thick wooden rods.

The Minstrels watched as it began beating on the drum. It started with a rolling hum that gradually grew in force to a booming they could feel throughout their bodies. The volume built and fell, the pace and rhythm changed from a smooth pattering to a thrum like that of a giant heart, then a galloping beat. It was music of a kind they had not heard before, all based on rhythm rather than scale.

Cantus was fascinated.

* * *

Several hours later the Minstrels were still at the drum with Balsam, the creature who had demonstrated it to them. Each had tried their hand at the instrument, and found it to be a very strenuous form of music. Cantus, who had experimented until his arms were tired, was sure that he would be sore for the next few days, but he had been having too much fun to stop until his strength gave out. After that more of the creatures—Thrumb—had brought out their own instruments, all of them percussion, and played for them. At the height of the impromptu concert three were beating on the large drum side by side, many others were playing smaller drums, ranging from cauldron- to bowl-sized, and some were rapping sticks together with sharp clacks. Children clapped along. It all came together to make music they could feel all the way through to their bones.

That lasted until the Thrumb mealtime, so when they were done people began taking food from the platforms that ran along the walls. By now the Minstrels were considered guests, and shared in the food. The selection was a pleasant surprise to Brool and Murray, as it included both fish and meat.

Balsam sat with them as they ate. It was interesting, Murray thought. Most people's personalities came through in their music. However, Balsam sat quietly, listening and looking a little shy. Not long ago he had been beating the daylights out of a drum three times as big around as he was tall.

When they finished eating Balsam asked, "Which colony did you come from?"

Cantus replied, "Each of us came from a different colony, far north of here."

"North?" Balsam asked. Cantus nodded. Balsam pointed, and Cantus nodded again. "I didn't know anyone lived in the north."

"Nobody in the north knows that you live here. It is several days' journey through dark, silent caves. Are there more colonies in this area?"

Balsam nodded. "Sure. They're Fraggles and other kinds of people, so we don't know much about them."

"Why not?" Brio asked.

Balsam thought, then said, "I don't know."

"What kinds of people are there? Besides Fraggles." Brool asked.

Balsam said, "Well, there are little people, this big." He held his hands a little less than an arm's length apart. "And then there are really big ones but I've never seen them. They're _big!_ So big they don't live in caves, because there aren't any caves big enough."

Cantus asked, "They live above the caves?"

"I don't know."

"We will visit them all," Cantus said.

Balsam said, "I can take you there. I know where some of them live."

Murray said "That'd be nice, having a guide."

Cantus said, "Thank you. That would help us." He had noticed Balsam looking at his pipe. Cantus picked it up and said, "This is a magic pipe. Would you like to try it?"

"How do you play it?" Balsam asked, eagerness plain in his voice.

"It is a magic pipe. Just blow." He turned the dual mouthpiece toward Balsam.

Balsam leaned forward and blew. The pipe played several bars of a short, energetic tune. Balsam's eyes widened with surprise. It was the first expression on his leathery face that they could read. He said, "I like that."

"It came from within you," Cantus told him.

"That music was in _me?"_

Cantus smiled. "Everyone has music within themselves. Each tune is different. When played together, the songs merge and become richer."

"Like a stew," Balsam said.

It was an unexpected turn of metaphor, but the meaning was clear. "Yes."

"Just a minute. I'll be right back."

Balsam got up and scuttled off. When he came back he was carrying a pair of small drums, one a little larger than the other. They were connected in the center with a wooden bar. He offered them to Cantus, saying, "You can play these with your hands."

Cantus set then on the ground in front of himself and tapped on the heads. One played a slightly higher tone than the other. He experimented, seeing what sounds he could make by striking them with his flattened hands, his fingertips, and his thumbs; how the tone varied depending on where he hit it and how hard, and the patterns he could set up between the two notes. He hardly noticed when Murray started playing his guitar, and the others joined in soon after.

Balsam watched in wonder. He had to hear more of this.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Cantus, Murray, Brio, Brool, and Balsam are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. _When Can I See You Again _is by Owl City. Copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Clio and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 18  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The last few days had been interesting. Balsam had offered to guide the Minstrels to other people who lived in this region. The first one they had visited was a colony of Fraggles who had an unusual idea of fun. They kept their caverns utterly clean, taking out all rocks and stacking them in big piles outside the colony, and swept up dirt and dust from the floors of their caves. They even removed plants that they did not approve of. They liked their section of the world to be orderly. They didn't care for the Minstrels' music; it was too chaotic for their tastes. Their own style of music was heartfelt in its own way, but strange and staccato, as if it only grudgingly admitted to having a tune.

Cantus could see that the colony was turned inward and wanted no contact with the outside. That was regrettable, but he could not change it. The Minstrels did not stay there long.

* * *

Next they visited a colony of Doozers. Cantus and Murray were surprised to see them here; he thought they only lived in the north. Instead of working with metal like the ones he knew, these built structures out of crystalline-looking sticks. Murray commented, "Artsy."

Cantus noticed an appetizing smell in the air. He asked one of the Doozers, "What are these buildings for?"

The Doozers ignored him. Balsam said, "They won't answer you. Doozers only talk to Doozers."

"Hmm." Cantus raised his pipe and played some music that he had learned from one of the northern Doozers' music boxes. The Doozers looked at him, startled by the sound of actual music as opposed to the rowdy noise Fraggles usually made. He played for several minutes. When he finished he asked, "These structures you build, what are they for?"

The Doozers stared at him incredulously. One, a Doozer with a gearlike adornment on its helmet, replied, "They're for eating, of course!"

"Who eats them?"

"Fraggles, who else? What are _you?"_

"I am a Fraggle from far away."

"Well, come on, don't keep us waiting. The faster you eat the tower, the sooner we can rebuild."

Gingerly Cantus broke off a non-load-bearing strut and sampled it. It was spicy and delicious, with a crisp, crunchy texture. Cantus said to the others, "Try this. It's good."

Brool sampled one stick, and that was enough for him. It didn't suit his taste. Murray ate a few, thinking that they were decent snack food, but he'd never make a dent in these towers. Balsam nibbled politely, but that was all. Brio and Cantus, on the other hand, took down one of the towers. The Doozers, satisfied that their work was properly appreciated, went on with their tasks. One was already carting in a load of replacement building materials.

When they had eaten their fill Cantus said, "Thank you for the meal."

The Doozer with the gear helmet said, "Come back tomorrow. We'll be building a cloverleaf overpass!"

As they walked another tunnel leading upward, Brool remarked, "Building those things just so someone else can tear them down and eat them? That's crazy."

Balsam said, "I guess it's their hobby. Like your music."

Murray glanced at Cantus, who smiled. "Yes. We play music for the joy of it and the pleasure of the listener. It seems they build for the same reason."

* * *

The tunnel eventually leveled out and changed from smooth, live limestone to rough rock. Balsam stopped them in a cave and, pointing to the exit on the other side, said in a hushed voice, "That leads to the place where the huge people live. Be careful. They could step on you and squash you by accident."

"Then we will have to make sure they know we're here," Cantus said, and raised the Magic Pipe.

It was their standard entrance: come in playing music, and then introduce yourself. The Minstrels walked through the tunnel, playing their instruments.

The tunnel led to an enormous cave, so big they could barely hear echoes. It was dimly lit, and the light it did have came from holes in one wall of the cave and a nook with a huge fire. The flames rose to brush against the bottom of an enormous metal object. After a moment Cantus realized what he was looking at: a cooking pot over a fire. These people were _unimaginably_ big!

But, he thought when he heard footsteps, soon he wouldn't have to imagine it.

A titanic being in a robe entered the room, as unhurried and unstoppable as a spring flood. It took a few steps toward the cookpot, then paused and turned its head, listening. Then it looked down and saw the Minstrels, still playing their music.

Its eyes and mouth widened in shock. Cantus watched calmly. All people were surprised on seeing them for the first time. It soon passed.

The giant screamed piercingly. It—she—rushed away, then came back with a huge broomstick in her hands. As soon as she raised the broomstick the Minstrels scattered. They could bluff cave creatures into thinking they were big and fierce, but there was no hope of frightening off this mammoth being!

Only Balsam, who was not used to dealing with such dangers, didn't react quickly. He froze for just a second, and the broom swatted down on him.

The creature set up a screeching cacophony, calling for others, yelling that there were Fraggles in their home. She was holding the broom down. Someone was trapped under there! Cantus looked around, then quickly reached back and pulled the tent pole out of his pack. He held it like a spear and ran at the giant, putting all of his weight and momentum into a hard jab to the soft spot behind the ankle. The giant jerked her foot, but did not move the broom.

Watching from other hiding places, Murray and Brool saw what Cantus was trying to do. Murray took a fish scaling knife out of his pack and ran to join the attack. Brool charged as well, teeth bared.

Under the onslaught the giant jumped and ran out of the room. The broomstick clattered to the ground, revealing Balsam face down on the ground. Brool grabbed him up. More footsteps and voices heralded the arrival of more giants. Murray pointed at the door. "Let's get out of here!"

"Yes!" Cantus said, and they all fled.

They made it to the enormous door, then out into an area that was floored with dirt, not stone. In a tight group they headed for the first hiding spot they could find, behind a stone wall higher than a Fraggle was tall. Murray looked back. The giants were making a racket, but they were still inside. He said, "I'll keep watch."

"Thanks," Cantus said. Looking at Balsam, who was still in Brool's arms, he said, "How is he?" He could see only superficial abrasions on his front; he was more worried about the crushing force of the broom. He felt the soft part of Balsam's throat, then reported, "He's alive."

Brool sat down. Carefully he turned Balsam over in his lap. There was no blood; his leathery skin was tough. No visible swelling indicated broken bones or internal bleeding. Cantus wished he would wake up.

Murray reported, "They've shut the door. We're gonna be out here a while."

Brool said, "Let's find a spot to lay low in."

"Yes," Cantus agreed. They couldn't rest here; if a giant walked out and looked down it would see them. They got up and went along the wall, away from the giants.

They came to an area that smelled richly of that part of the cycle of life that is the opposite of the growth of plants in spring. It was the scent of the return of nutrients to the soil. It as an honest, natural odor, which was not to say it was exactly pleasant. Yet at the moment it was welcome, because surely the giants wouldn't search for them here.

They sat down against the wall. Cantus said in a shaken voice, "How can I speak to them with music if they won't listen at all?"

Murray replied, "Look, I know you love a challenge, but in this case you better rethink your approach. We can't unite anyone if we're smashed flat."

"I agree," Cantus said sadly.

Brool said, "He's waking up."

The Thrumb was blearily looking around, confused. Cantus said, "How are you?"

"I…don't know," Balsam answered dazedly.

"Are you badly hurt?"

"I don't know," Balsam repeated. "The big thing hit me. I'm still alive."

"He's in shock," Murray said.

Cantus asked, "Is there another way back?"

"I don't know. The only one I do know goes through there."

Cantus frowned. They should get Balsam back to his colony, where they would know how treat his injuries, whatever they were. But how could they get there? Even if the doors weren't closed, he heard the voices of three giants, all making an uproar about an invasion. If they went back through there they'd be killed.

But the giants were _people_. There had to be a way to speak to them without mayhem. The one who had attacked them had sounded frightened. Of _them?_ As large as they were, they were afraid of people the size of Fraggles? If he could get past that fear, maybe they would listen.

But that was a problem for another day. For now, they had to save their own skins.

Balsam said, "It hit me. With a big broom."

Murray said, "Yeah. We were afraid you were a goner at first. How do you feel?"

"My back's sore. Is it cut?"

"No," Brio answered.

Balsam took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then released it. "Nothing's broken. I think I'm okay. How are you?"

Brool said, "We're fine. You're the only one she hit."

"Oh, good. You're softer than I am. Um, I think I can, um, put me down?"

Brool gently set Balsam on his feet, and held his arms out for a moment after releasing him, in case he needed support. He didn't. Balsam sat down. "Sorry about that. I didn't know they were so mean." He looked around. "Where are we?"

They others followed his gaze. They had been too busy to notice where they were. Instead of a cave ceiling there were plants rising straight up toward a shining blue-and-white expanse. On one edge there was a yellow-orange circle that they could not look at for more than a second. When Balsam closed his eyes the image flashed against his eyelids.

Murray and Cantus had seen this before. "This is outside of the caves," Cantus said. He pointed at the sun. "That is a fire that lights and warms this place."

"Is this _natural?"_ Brio asked.

"It doesn't get much more natural than this!"

The ground shifted and heaved under them. Before their eyes it rose, revealing the shape of…well, of a pile of trash. It raised a pair of eyeglasses on a stick and peered at them. "Well, well, I haven't seen you before!" She glanced around. "And since it looks like I have to make my own introductions, I am the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-telling Trash heap. You want wisdom, you've come to the right place. Whaddaya wanna know?"

Cantus thought that this shouldn't be real. But it was. He could see it, hear it, and definitely smell it. A talking trash heap. Thinking that they had little to lose, he said, "We need to get back home, but the only way we know is through the house of the giants."

"The Gorgs' castle? You go in there, they'll thump you," she warned.

"I know. They thumped Balsam," Cantus said, gesturing at the Thrumb.

"I'm all right. I'm not soft," Balsam said.

"You need to go back through the Gorgs' castle without being thumped? In that case, simply wait until they go to bed."

"Will we be safe here until then?" Murray asked.

"Of course you will. The Gorgs only come back here to take out the trash," she assured them.

"Thank you," Cantus said. He took out his pipe and said, "I would like to play for you."

"Oh, how nice! Lay it on me, sonny."

At first Brool was astonished. They had just escaped death by thumping, and Cantus was playing music? Was that his response to everything? But then Murray joined in, and, well, it seemed to be the thing to do. Brool got out his guitar, and Brio her cymbals.

Balsam checked his drums. Somehow they had escaped damage. The Minstrels encouraged anyone who was with them to join in their music, so he did, playing a soft, pattering rhythm to compliment their tune.

When they finished they all felt much calmer. The Trash Heap said, "That was lovely. Now, while we're waiting, watch the sunset with me."

"What is a sunset?" Cantus asked.

She drew back in surprise. "You don't know what a sunset is? You Fraggles need to get out in the fresh air more often. Come here and sit down facing the way I am. It's beginning."

They did. Soon colors began to appear in the sky. The sun darkened from orange to red, and the clouds turned to streamers of pink and purple. The sky darkened, and as it did tiny points of light, like fireflies, appeared overhead. Cantus thought, it was worth the ordeal to see something like this. It was like music painted in the sky.

The Trash Heap said, "The Gorgs are going to bed now. If you are careful and quiet, and walk along the walls rather than straight across the floor, you'll be safe."

"Thank you," Cantus said.

The Minstrels started back, alert for the sound of Gorg voices. Murray said softly to Cantus, "She said 'you Fraggles.' And the giant called us Fraggles. There are Fraggles who come out here."

"Yes," Cantus said. That just might be _very_ significant.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	19. Chapter 19

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 19  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The tunnels were cool even now, at the height of summer. For Cantus, Murray, and Brool, it was comfortable and nostalgic. Brio and Balsam found it pleasant, if strange.

Cantus had led the Minstrels far north, to a Doozer colony they sometimes visited in their wanderings. Shelflike roads and walkways too small to accommodate a Fraggle were attached to the cave walls. The Minstrels walked to a lit tunnel mouth well up the wall. Cantus and Murray had once climbed up into the tunnel for no reason other than curiosity about the light. Now the Minstrels stopped in front of it and played a marching tune.

Soon little round heads looked out. They disappeared again, and a rope ladder with rigid metal rungs tumbled down, unrolling as it fell. The Minstrels climbed up, one by one.

When they emerged from the tunnel into a large, open cavern they began playing another tune. It was fast-paced and energetic, the kind of music Doozers enjoy. Their music soon attracted a crowd. To Balsam, who had never seen so many Doozers in one place, they looked like a vast collection of green balls topped with helmets and colorful tufts of hair.

When they finished Cantus lowered his pipe and said, "Greetings. I am here, as are you."

Some of the Doozers began heading back out of the open chamber. The Minstrels did not mind; part of their audience was Doozers on duty who had declared a work break to hear the music, and had to get back to their tasks. He continued, "I bring two new Minstrels, Brio and Balsam."

That surprised Balsam. He was a Minstrel?

Cantus said, "I would like to show them your music boxes."

Comb Doozer, self-appointed liaison to the Minstrels, said, "Sure. Come with us."

Some curious Doozers came in with them. It was always a novelty, seeing a Fraggle who was not childish and hyperactive, and who appreciated Doozer music. He could even play it! Maybe, some of them thought, Fraggles were not as hopeless as they seemed.

Cantus told the Minstrels, "The Doozers store music in these boxes. It is the legacy of Doozer musicians long ago who wished to sing to the future."

He looked around the room. The walls were lined with small, shallow shelves displaying music boxes. There was machinery on the sides of the shelves to bring any box a Doozer selected down to eye level. Cantus, of course, did not need this assistance. He found the box he was looking for, then said "Listen" quietly and opened it.

The Minstrels listened. It sounded as if the tune was played on tiny bells. Murray recognized it; he had heard all of these tunes in previous visits. Brool was familiar with them too. For Brio and Balsam they were new.

After it finished Cantus closed its box and said, "For most of the people in the Rock, music is as fleeting as light on the surface of water, beautiful while it lasts and then gone. Few songs are sung over and over again. These Doozers keep the songs they love most in these boxes, so they may hear these voices from long ago."

Brio asked, "How do they work?"

Comb spoke up. "Look at this box." He opened one that was at floor level. She crouched down. Holding the key so the box would not play, he said, "See the roller?" He pointed to the metal cylinder textured with tiny bumps. "Each one of those raised spots is a note. As the roller turns, the notes pass under the comb and pluck its teeth, playing the music." He released the key. The cylinder began to turn slowly. Now Brio saw the dots go under the comb. The teeth glittered as they caught the light when plucked.

"Wow. I thought it was magic," Brio said, impressed.

Pleased, Comb said, "Nope, not magic, just good Doozer skill and knowhow."

Cantus said, "I would like to ask you and your fellow Doozers to make a music box for me."

"You would?" Comb asked, surprised.

"Yes. I would like to give music to someone I have never met."

"Well…sure, why not. How many scribes will it take?"

"Three."

"All right, hold on." The Doozer left the room.

Murray said, "Cantus, usually I get you, but sometimes I really wonder what you're up to."

Cantus smiled and nodded as if acknowledging a compliment.

* * *

Soon Comb came back with two other Doozers, several rolls of paper, and a triangular device. Cantus said, "Murray, Brool, and I will play this."

"How fast is the beat?" Comb asked.

Cantus tapped his foot on the ground. Comb fiddled with the little machine. A bar on the front began swaying and clicking. Comb adjusted its speed to match the rhythm Cantus was tapping out. Then he sat and opened a roll of paper in front of himself. It was like a scroll, and had a set of lines running the length of the paper.

Brio and Balsam watched as Cantus, Murray, and Brool played their music. They did not feel left out. The tune had to be simple to be suitable for a music box, and Brio's cymbals and Balsam's drums wouldn't translate well. The tune was a calm, pleasant one that repeated, building gently each time it did. The Doozers, each listening to only one of the instruments, made marks on the paper as they listened.

When they finished Comb turned off the ticking machine and said, "We'll have a test track this evening."

"Thank you," Cantus said.

* * *

The Minstrels climbed down the ladder. Then Cantus led them to a nearby cave that was filled with edible plants. All but Brool found things there to eat. Brool, as ever, had his own supplies. As they ate Murray said, "I hope this turns out well."

"I believe it will," Cantus replied. He was nibbling on a mushroom.

"Whatever it is."

Cantus merely nodded. Murray shook his head in a sort of shrug. They had dropped everything and come back north, a trip of many, many days, bypassing many of the colonies along the way and spending little time in the ones they did visit. En route Cantus had composed and taught Murray and Brool a song. Unlike all of their other tunes, this was not to be elaborated or ad-libbed upon; it had to be played exactly as Cantus showed them. Why? He had never tried to control their music before. Cantus had assured them that there was reason for this strange exception.

Sometimes, Murray thought, you just had to bear with Cantus. Which he did, willingly, even if he did grumble mentally sometimes. He trusted that the answer would be worth the effort.

* * *

When they returned late in the day the foundry was shut down and the Doozers were out of their work uniforms. Some of them, Cantus saw, had brought instruments. That pleased him. He said, "Who will begin, you or us?"

A particularly spontaneous Doozer began playing a flute. Cantus recognized her: Reed, who worked as a burnisher and played music on her time off. Other Doozers joined in, playing a cheerful, lively tune. When the Minstrels got the feel of it they joined in.

* * *

When they came to a stopping point Comb said, "It's ready for you to listen to. Come with me."

He led the Minstrels into a workroom. Scroll-like rolls of sheet metal stood on one side. There were tiny tools at worktables all along the walls, and a low table running down the center of the room. A long piece of sheet metal, printed with a grid pattern and textured with hundreds of raised dots, lay on it. At the far end was a comb, like those in a music box, mounted in a frame with its teeth pointing downward. The door slid shut, sealing away outside sounds. One of the Doozers standing at the table said, "Quiet for the test!"

"Ready," Cantus replied.

She flipped a switch on a device attached to the comb's frame. Rollers on either side began turning with a faint hum, drawing the sheet of metal under the comb.

They all listened as the device played the tune that the Minstrels had "dictated" earlier that day. When they had played it on pipe and two guitars it had sounded pleasant, but not special. But now, it seemed to sparkle. Cantus closed his eyes and smiled. This was exactly what he had heard in his head.

When it finished the Doozer at the controls flicked the switch again and said, "How was that?"

"That was perfect," he told her. "I would not have you change anything."

She smiled and nodded. She had expected that. Doozers, after all, did their jobs well. She said, "It will take some days, perhaps a week, to make the machinery for the box."

"It will take as long as it takes," Cantus replied.

"What about the lid?" she asked.

All music boxes had some design on the lid to identify the song within. It might be a picture, it might be an abstract design or carving or even a texture. Cantus had already thought about this. He said, "Murray, that picture I asked you to copy?"

"Sure." Murray had wondered why Cantus had asked him to copy a design they often saw in Fraggle colonies. There were all sorts of variations on it, so he had drawn a basic version with the common elements. He took it out of his pack and showed it to Cantus, who glanced at it and nodded. Then he gave it to the Doozer.

She stared at it for a long moment. Then she said, "Is this a Fraggle?"

"Yes," Cantus replied.

"Doing _this?"_ She held her hands by the sides of her head, fingers outspread.

"Yes."

She stared at it a moment longer, then said "Okay."

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Comb and Reed Doozer are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Comb, Reed, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 20  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

Murray was all eyes and ears as he peered into the cavernous Gorg castle. The light, which came from a low-burning fire, threw long, shaky shadows across the floor. The walls were straight and made of cut rock mortared together instead of living stone. The floor was flat and even. To a creature used to limestone caves, this felt creepy and unnatural.

The sounds here were different too. The quiet snap and sizzle from the fireplace, the distant sounds of the surface creatures outside, and, of course, the snoring of this dwelling's huge inhabitants. Murray paid close attention to that. If the sound remained the same, he and Cantus were safe. If it changed, they would run for cover.

He looked up. There was a bit of orange moving against the dull stone and faded cloth. Cantus was climbing up one of the walls to a shelf far overhead. Instead of his usual pack, he carried a wooden box strapped to his back. Murray knew it was not that heavy, as he had carried it himself part of the way, but climbing with it couldn't be fun.

Its weight came from the metal within the box. A colony of Doozers had created the device for him. When closed, it appeared to be an ordinary box, although the image on the lid marked it as a Fraggle artifact. But when you opened it up...

Well, they would see.

Cantus had reached the shelf and was moving a loose stone from its place. Murray couldn't see from his low angle, but he knew what Cantus was doing: placing the box behind the stone. That was a dangerous hiding spot, but one that could be navigated by clever, motivated Fraggles.

Now Cantus was climbing back down without the box. Murray sat down cross-legged and unrolled a map in front of himself. The image was vague, certainly not clear enough to serve as a guide. It was the directions that would lead a Fraggle to the box, provided whoever found it and was willing to take the risk. He wrote down the path to it in terms of steps and landmarks. When Cantus approached Murray had finished the last few lines and was fanning the wet ink with a dried leaf that had blown in from outside.

After a few minutes Murray rolled the map up again, and Cantus shrugged on his backpack. He did not try to read the map; his near vision was not very sharp. He carried his music and lore in his head; only on those rare occasions when he needed to set something down on paper for someone else did he call on Murray as a scribe.

The two Fraggles crept out the door, which was half open to let in the night breeze, and crossed the garden to the safety of the underground tunnels.

When rock surrounded them once more Murray spoke. "You really know how to pick 'em."

Cantus replied, "If it was easy, it would be meaningless."

"Right, right..."

* * *

The two Minstrels backtracked to a cobwebby cave near the local Fraggle colony. For many turns of the seasons the Minstrels had been exploring the caves, finding new colonies and playing their music for those who would listen. This colony was the latest one. Cantus had surprised the other Minstrels by avoiding it, choosing to travel far north instead of visiting them. During that trip he had asked a Doozer colony to make the music box for him. Then the Minstrels had come back south, and once again Cantus had kept away from the colony.

As Cantus set the map atop a stone formation in the center of the cave Murray said, "You really think they'll find it here?"

"They will if they are interested enough in the world to explore beyond the safety of their nest," Cantus replied.

"What'll you do if they take the box?"

"If they listen to it, then they may keep it."

"There's gotta be more to it than that."

"More and less. It only appears to be complex because it is so simple."

Murray leaned against the stone formation. "Remember when you made me promise to be honest with you? That goes both ways."

Cantus paused thoughtfully. Then he said, "This Fraggle colony is in contact with both Doozers and Gorgs. They have a trash heap as an oracle. They see the sun and moon, and get food from the surface. No other colony has all those blessings."

Gorgs were a blessing? Skip it. "So why are you tiptoeing around?"

In a low voice Cantus said, "In time, we will meet them. But first I want to find out what they are like. How brave they are. How curious. Whether music is at the center of their souls."

"All that with a music box."

"It is a test."

"What if the Gorgs find it instead?"

Cantus smiled. "Then they will find a gift of music from a Fraggle."

Murray chuckled. "Okay. Well, let's get back or the others'll come looking for us."

"Yes."

The two left. Murray hoped that the Fraggles of the colony passed the test. He only had a notion of why Cantus thought this colony was so special, and he couldn't guess what he planned to do if they found the box. All he could do now was watch and wait.

During his visits to the various colonies Cantus had studied their lore. Every colony had a bard, or storyteller, or keeper of sacred books, or come other person who served as the custodian of their lore and history. Cantus had found many common patterns and themes in Fraggle tales. For example, every Fraggle colony he had visited had a legend of a lost treasure. In Cantus's opinion that was foolish; the greatest gift that Fraggles had was that which they gave and accepted freely, and could never lose: their song. In song, Fraggles gave voice to their hearts, sharing of themselves in a way that words alone could not convey.

There were many colonies of many species living in the caves. Cantus and his minstrels could carry music from one to the next, but they alone could not unite the Rock. The inhabitants must step outside themselves, leave their safe little nests and see the larger world. They must join the larger song.

Cantus had hope for this colony. They lived with both Doozers and Gorgs, so they had some concept of different races. He believed that if they were brave enough to find the box and perceptive enough to recognize the value of the music within, he would have found at long last what he had been looking for.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	21. Chapter 21

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 21  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was another dark night in the Gorgs' castle. Cantus and Murray entered through the hole in the kitchen. The fire was burning low, casting little light. Life would be easier if they could come during the day, Murray thought. Easier, but short.

After assuring themselves that the Gorgs were sound asleep they climbed up to a shelf, making as little noise as possible. When they reached the plateau Cantus started forward, but Murray held out a hand. "Wait."

Cantus stopped. "What is it?"

Murray walked forward as carefully as if avoiding sawmoss sprouts, then lifted a large boxy knickknack that was shadowing much of the shelf and moved it out of the way. He looked at the shelf, then said, "They've been here."

"What do you see?" Cantus asked.

Murray squatted down. "Footprints. Not ours. Good thing the Gorgs don't dust that often."

Cantus crouched and examined the shelf. He could not see the footprints in this dim, wavery light, but he believed Murray. "Then let's see what they found."

Carefully they pulled the loose stone out of the wall. Behind it was an empty hollow. The music box was gone.

* * *

The other Minstrels, waiting just on the other side of the hole in the Gorgs' wall, picked up on Cantus's mood immediately. Normally he was calm and reflective; now he was cheerful. Balsam asked, "Did they find it?"

"They found it," Cantus affirmed.

"So, what do we do now?" Brool asked.

"We pay them a visit."

* * *

Normally the Minstrels arrived whenever they arrived, be it morning, afternoon, or evening. However, this time Cantus wanted to make a proper entrance. As soon as the Ditzies became active, lighting the caves, he raised his pipe, and they began their processional. Plants stirred around them as they walked.

When they reached the Great Hall they found Fraggles, still wearing nightshirts and pajamas, enthralled by the music. Cantus sang,  
"Music grows in the rose,  
Rock and rain and the blowin' snowstorm.  
Everything seems to sing  
Everywhere I go."

Murray joined him in the refrain.

"I say one, two, play me do.  
Let me sound as sweet as you.  
Play me wide, play me long,  
Let me be your song."

Cantus played a soft solo on his pipe. Flowers bloomed, responding to the music as they would to lifegiving light. The colony's Fraggles stared, hardly able to believe what they were seeing and hearing.

"Lay me down on the ground,  
Song comes singin' from the midnight places.  
Raise me high in the sky,  
Song comes driftin' through.  
I say one, two, play me do.  
Let me sound as sweet as you.  
Play me wide, play me long,  
Let me be your song.

"Play me high, play me low,  
Play me where the wild wind's blowin',  
Play me wide, play me long,  
Play me for your song.  
I say one, two, play me do.  
Let me sound as sweet as you.  
Play me wide, play me long,  
Let me be your song."

One Fraggle with wet hair from an early swim could not contain her curiosity. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Cantus, and we are the Minstrels. We wander this boundless rock of ours finding Fraggles in distant caves. When we are near, they sing a Fraggle medley. We are near. We are _here._" Looking around to include all of the Fraggles in the cave, he said, "It's your turn to sing the medley."

The wet Fraggle said eagerly, "A medley? You mean a race? Oh, I bet I'd come in first!"

Cantus replied. "And so you will. One Fraggle must be first to sing. _You_ are the medley leader. What is your name?"

"Oh, Red Fraggle. And I'm great at leading! So, what are the rules?"

"There are no rules, and those are the rules."

* * *

Cantus had gone on to explain that every Fraggle had a song, and all of the songs sung together would make the Fraggle Medley. Red had gotten stuck on the question of what her song was. Cantus, of course, had let her tangle with that problem herself. He was testing her.

Murray didn't think much of her chances. He said, "Hey, boss, you sure know how to pick your medley leaders."

"I don't pick them. They pick themselves," Cantus replied calmly as he polished the Magic Pipe.

"Yeah, but this one—we could be here for days!"

"She'll find her song, in time."

Murray had his doubts about that. "In time for tomorrow's medley?"

"She has a long way to go, though the journey is short. The medley will not start without her." He sauntered off, ending the conversation.

Murray turned back to Brio and Balsam, who had been listening. "Did he answer my question?"

Balsam nodded. Brio shook her head.

"That's what I thought," Murray said. Cantus was in his 'mysterious sage' mode, and laying it on particularly thick. When he got like this, the rest of the Minstrels took their cues from him and watched to see what would happen.

* * *

The day wore on. Fraggles were humming and singing, some by themselves, others in couples or groups. They had a talent for singing together, Cantus saw. All Fraggles did, to some degree. These did it as easily and naturally, though, as if it was an everyday event. This pleased him.

Later in the day some of the Fraggles came over to where the Minstrels were playing softly. One of them was Red. She tried to cheat by getting the Magic Pipe to play her song. Of course that was not possible; she would not have a song until she made it. But Cantus could not fault her for trying. She, at least, was determined, and with determination great things could be accomplished.

Afterward Cantus said to Murray, "Did you notice what music he asked for?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured she'd...what, _he?"_

"The small light green one. The first thing he asked to hear was not his own tune, but Doozer music. When has a Fraggle ever asked for Doozer music?" Cantus nodded to himself, very pleased.

* * *

All day Red tried to find her song. Rather, she tried to find out how to find her song. Others had theirs; why was it so tough for her?

By that night she had had no success. She knew where the song would be: in the Magic Pipe, which Cantus had said knew every song. And she had to get that song, otherwise they wouldn't be able to sing the Medley, and she would have failed in front of everybody!

With the minimal and very unwilling assistance of her best friend, Mokey, she crept into the Minstrels' camp while they were asleep and got the pipe. She tried to play her song, but only heard a dissonant squawk.

The Magic Pipe would not play for her. It knew that it had been stolen by someone with no right to its music. It cried out to Cantus in the language they shared, and tried to flee. Its assailant would not release it until it burned its mark into her hand.

* * *

Cantus did not discover the theft until morning. He looked around the Minstrel's camp, a disturbed expression on his face. None of the Minstrels would have moved it. The other Fraggles had been curious about the pipe, as people always were on first seeing it, but this was the first time it had been taken from him.

He had an idea who had done it, and why.

* * *

At First Light the Fraggles gathered around the Minstrels in the Great Hall, eager to begin the Fraggle Medley. The last two to arrive were Red and Mokey. Red looked anxious, and Mokey was dragging her. Seeing them, Murray said, "Hey, the leader's here. Let's get this medley moving."

Cantus announced, "The medley cannot begin."

Surprised, Murray asked, "What's wrong, boss?"

Cantus told them, "My Magic Pipe is missing. Somebody took it."

The Fraggles gasped in shock. Why would anyone steal something so wonderful?

Murray moaned, "Days! We'll be here for _days!"_

Cantus raised his left hand. A zigzag glowed in his palm. "Whoever took the pipe will bear this mark." He paused, giving them all a chance to see, then continued, "This mark is the pipe's magic way of saying 'uh-uh!'"

Gobo said, "Who would be dumb enough to take that pipe?"

Red said, "Yeah. What a stupid thing to do!"

Looking around, Cantus said, "Does anybody know anything about it?"

Mokey said, "Please, what if the Fraggle who, uh, took the pipe really didn't mean any harm, and it was all just a big misunderstanding?"

Red added, "Yeah, it could happen to anyone!"

Firmly Cantus said, "It could _not_ happen to anyone. There was no misunderstanding."

Gobo asked, "Mokey, do you know who took that pipe?"

"Oh, well, uh...yes, I did, sort of," she said.

The other Fraggles were shocked by her confession. Red called out over the babble, "Wait a moment! Listen to me!" When they did not pay attention she raised her hand, revealing a zigzag matching Cantus's, and shouted, _"Look!"_

Cantus said, "So, it _was_ you."

Surprised, Red said, "You mean you knew?"

"You were the one who didn't know."

Ashamed, Red confessed, "Yeah, well, I borrowed the pipe so it would play me my song. But then everything went wrong and the pipe dragged me out to the Gorgs' garden. And...that's where it is now."

Reproachfully Cantus said, "You know you should never have taken that pipe. That pipe is magic, and magic is very powerful. Now we must find my pipe."

* * *

Cantus walked to the tunnel leading to the Gorgs' garden, and Red followed behind him, feeling very small and ashamed of herself. Mokey, Gobo, and Wembley had tried to come and help, but Cantus had stopped them with a single wave of his hand.

When they arrived Junior Gorg was working in the radish patch. Red nervously said, "I dropped it over there," and pointed to the end of the garden's low stone border.

"You must go over there and get it."

"But-but the Gorg will kill me!" she protested.

Cantus looked over. Junior was busy, his back to them. Cantus said, "Says who?"

"But...but..." Red stammered. Cantus pointed into the garden. Red whimpered and started forward.

She had barely begin to search for the pipe when Junior turned and spotted her red sweater against the grassy ground. He raised his rake and said, "Oh-ho! Oh, I'll get you this time, little Fwaggle!"

"No!" Red cried.

Cantus saw that Red was paralyzed with terror. He said, "Pipe, play Gorg music."

The pipe began playing a tune that, while deep and slow, had an infectious bounciness to it. Junior, taken by surprise, forgot about hunting Fraggles and began to dance. Startled by the unexpected reprieve, Red looked around, and found the source of the music. She picked it up and fled back to the safety of Fraggle Rock.

As soon as she and Cantus were underground she gave the pipe back to him. "I'm—I'm really sorry. If I knew what would happen I never would have touched it, honest."

"Come, they are waiting for us in the Great Hall," he said in a kind tone.

She was forgiven. She still felt foolish, but at least she made good on her mistake without getting killed!

* * *

When they returned to the Great Hall Red told Gobo, "Boy, you should have seen the pipe make that Gorg dance!"

Cantus said, "It played his song. And now, Red Fraggle, you will sing for us your song."

"But—I don't have my song. It's in the pipe."

Cantus replied, "Your song is inside you. Without you, the pipe would be silent. Now sing."

"But I don't have a song!"

Cantus looked heavenward in exasperation and muttered, "I fear I'm losing my implacable calm."

"I've never had a song," she said, looking at the ground.

He exclaimed, "You've _always_ had a song! All Fraggles have songs! Now just _listen."_

There was silence in the Great Hall as Red looked down again. What song? She had no song. Her mind was empty.

Then, in the silence of her head, she heard something. It was a little tune she'd heard before, she did not know where. It might have been there forever, or she might have heard it long ago, or she might have hummed it herself only days ago without thinking about it. Now it shyly presented itself. She whispered, "Wait a minute, I heard something!" She listened for a moment longer, then noticed her left hand. The zigzag had faded. "Look at my hand!"

Mokey looked at it. "Oh, Red!"

Nodding, Cantus said, "Now, sing."

"Sure!" She sang the tune she had heard in her head. As she sang it, she hoped it was right.

Cantus was nodding. Murray began strumming softly on his guitar. Mokey said, "That's it, Red! Go on."

More confidently now, Red continued singing to the end. Mokey said, "Beautiful!"

"That's my song. I heard it! I sang it!" Red said excitedly.

"About time, too," Murray remarked.

Cantus looked around. "All right, everyone, let the medley begin. Red."

Red sang her song. Then Cantus welcomed Mokey, Gobo, and Wembley to the song one by one. Although their individual songs were different, they blended together to make a unified whole. Soon all the Fraggles in the colony had joined the song. Even Boober sang from the safety of his tiny cavelet.

"Our melody, come and sing it with me,  
It's a song where you know you belong.  
Our melody, come and sing it with me,  
'Cause you know we belong to the song..."

* * *

When the Minstrels left, playing their tune, the Fraggles watched them go, hoping they would be back soon.

Murray, strumming his guitar, asked Cantus, "So, what do you think, boss?"

Cantus understood the implied question. "I think that this is a colony with great potential."

"Lot of growing to do, though."

"Yes. Isn't it wonderful?"

Cantus began playing the pipe, ending the conversation. He was playing the Gorg's song, but with the fast, enegetic pace of Doozer music. Murray chuckled and shook his head. They'd be seeing more of this place, that was for sure.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, the song _Our Melody,_ the episode _The Minstrels_ (heavily excerpted here), and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	22. Chapter 22

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 22  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

One head appeared at the exit of Fraggle Rock, then another. They looked around. There was motion everywhere. The trees swayed in a wind that did not reach the ground. Leaves fluttered. Colorful creatures flew between the trees. Small things buzzed by on blurred wings. Other creatures crawled on the ground. It was utterly unlike the stillness of the limestone caves. At first all the eye-catching motion had been alarming, but after several visits Cantus and Murray had become acclimated to it.

The one thing that was missing was the presence of the Gorgs. Cantus looked down the hole and said "It's safe."

He and Murray climbed out onto the sun-warmed rock. The other minstrels looked out uneasily. They had only come to the surface here once before, and they had immediately been attacked by the Gorgs. It was mere luck that the only one who had gotten swatted was Balsam, who was tough enough to take a blow that could have crushed any of the others.

Cantus beckoned from the grassy ground. He picked up a fallen leaf big enough to use as a cape and said, "Everyone, get one of these and hold it between yourself and the castle. If the Gorgs come out, stop and hide behind it."

Brool nodded. "Camouflage."

"Bingo," Murray said.

Each picked up a leaf, and they started across the yard, single-file, strung out to avoid attracting attention. They all listened for signs of Gorgic activity, and Cantus took peeks from behind his leaf. They could hear voices, but whatever the Gorgs were doing, they were doing it indoors.

They arrived at the aromatic refuge of the Trash Heap. It looked like an ordinary pile of garbage at the moment. A pair of ratlike creatures noticed them. One said, "Whoops, look busy, we got customers."

They scuttled up to place themselves between the Minstrels and the dump. The other remarked, "These don't look like the usual guys."

"Newbies, eh? Well, you are in the presence of the wisdom of the world, all in one big pile."

"The omniscient, ineffable—"

"Inexplicable, venerable—"

Behind them, the garbage was rising. They finished together, "Trash Heap! Nyeah."

One added, "She sees all—"

"I already said that."

"You did not."

"I did so! I called her omniscient!"

"That's not a real word."

"It is too! Remember that dictionary they threw out?"

"The one you kept reading at dinner? That's rude, you know."

"It _was_ dinner! It's healthier to pay attention to your food." He turned back. "Isn't that true, Marjory?"

She said, "He's right. You should always be aware of what you put in your body." She glanced at the Minstrels, then told Philo and Gunge, "We don't need the patter, we've met before." She said to the Minstrels, "It's been a while. What've you been doing with yourselves?"

"We have been wandering the rock far and wide, teaching what we know and learning what we do not know," Cantus said.

Philo quipped, "Sheesh, make up your mind."

Marjory said, "Oh, I envy you explorers. I wouldn't mind seeing Outer Space myself."

Cantus asked, "What is Outer Space?"

"You've never heard of Outer Space? It's a world above the caves, full of 'Silly Creatures,' people taller than Fraggles but smaller than Gorgs. Hundreds and hundreds of them!"

Interested, Cantus asked, "What are these 'Silly Creatures' like?"

"You should ask Traveling Matt Fraggle. He's been exploring outer Space for over a year now. He sends postcards to his nephew Gobo Fraggle telling all about them."

Murray asked, "What a postcard?"

Gunge said, "You're fulla questions, ain't'cha?"

"Asking questions is a good way of finding things out," Cantus said mildly.

Marjory explained. "Postcards are a way Silly Creatures send messages to each other. Each card has a picture on one side and the message on the other."

Cantus thought, a lone Fraggle had left the caves altogether to explore an alien world. That was a brave Fraggle indeed! He hoped that he would one day meet this pioneer. "I have never heard of a Fraggle leaving the caves. Few Fraggles stray from their home colonies."

She nodded. "Yes, I know. Most of them are afraid even to come up here. "

Balsam nodded emphatically. Brool said, "Can you blame them?"

She sighed. "It's a pity the Fraggles and the Gorgs believe they must be enemies. I've tried to show them what they have in common, but they wouldn't see it."

"Have you given up?" Cantus asked.

She looked at him sharply. "Of course not! I'm in the wisdom business, aren't I?"

"Why do the Gorgs try to thump Fraggles?" Cantus asked.

"Because they don't realize that Fraggles are people. They think of them only as vermin who infest their garden and take their radishes. And the Fraggles think of Gorgs only as vicious monsters who want to exterminate the Fraggles. You see what I'm up against?"

Cantus nodded sympathetically. He asked, "What are radishes?"

That surprised the denizens of the dump. Philo said, "Are you _sure_ you're a Fraggle?"

The Trash Heap said, "You must find the answer to that question yourself."

"How will I do that?"

She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "Go get one. They're the red things growing in the ground. Go ahead, the coast is clear."

Cantus picked up a leaf and went to the end of the low stone wall. Peering around it, he saw that the Gorgs were still nowhere to be seen. He glanced back, and saw that the other Minstrels were carrying leaves. Murray said, "Hey, we're curious too."

"And hungry," Brio added.

Cantus nodded, then started out into the garden. Like everything else out here, the plants were much bigger than anything that grew underground. Berries the size of his head, bean pods as long as his arm. It must be because they have more room to grow.

At the center of the garden were parallel rows of earth with clusters of leaves growing out of them. The leaves were attached to pinkish-red domes of varying sizes. Cantus examined one. It was some sort of root vegetable. Brio leaned close and sniffed. "Smells nice. It must be food." Cantus and Brio grasped the bases of the leaves and pulled. The radish came out of the earth, revealing a spherical body that shaded to white at its single root.

* * *

When the Minstrels returned to the Trash Heap, they were carrying not only the radish, but a small tomato, some berries, and a few pods of beans. Marjory watched as the two Fraggles sampled the radish, cautiously at first, then with more enthusiasm. She said, "Now do you understand why the Fraggles will risk going into the garden?"

Cantus swallowed. "Yes, I do." It was delicious, and satisfying in a way that no treat could be. He would be willing to bet that it was as nutritious as the morels back home.

Murray took a small bite, then said, "Eh, it's okay." Balsam and Brool did not try it; its smell did not appeal to them.

The Trash Heap told them, "The Fraggles need radishes. The Gorgs need radishes. Even the Doozers need radishes! There are enough to go around, they grow so fast. One day they will understand that."

The Minstrels shared the food they had gathered among themselves and with Philo and Gunge. Even Brool, though he was a carnivore, ate some beans and tomato. He had recently discovered that there were plants that were actually palatable once you got used to their textures, and picking food certainly was more convenient than having to hunt something down every time he got peckish.

When they finished their picnic, and Marjory cheerfully accepted the bean pods and other scraps, Cantus, who had been thinking as he ate, said, "You wish to unite the Gorgs and the Fraggles, just as we wish to unite the rock with music. You know about the Gorgs and the Fraggles, and we can travel."

"What are you suggesting?" she asked, feigning surprise.

"We have similar goals. Why shouldn't we work together?"

"Why indeed? It's a deal." She raised her left hand and declared, "When you come to me, I will share my wisdom and knowledge with you to help you unite the rock with music. Hey nonny nonny nonny, hey nonny ha-cha-cha."

Philo and Gunge's eyes widened, but they held their silence. This was serious!

Cantus asked, "What does that last part mean?"

Marjory said, "It is the Solemn Oath of the Gorgs. An agreement made under the oath cannot be broken."

Cantus said, "I will promise for myself, but I will not bind the other Minstrels."

"Nor can you. Very well."

Cantus raised his left hand. "When I come here, I will use my music to help you bring the Fraggles and the Gorgs together. Hey nonny nonny nonny, hey nonny ha-cha-cha."

"Not the Fraggle oath?"

"I don't know one."

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "Do you consider a Gorg oath binding?"

"A Gorg is a person, as am I, as are you. Why should an oath be binding on one and not another?"

She said approvingly, "A promise is a promise, whatever ceremony you use."

Cantus nodded. Their words were different, but they agreed. He turned and said to the other Minstrels, "This could get dangerous. I will not expect you to risk yourselves."

Murray said, "What's this noise? You and I've been traveling together for millions of days. After all the monsters we've bluffed off and run from, the freezing winter tunnels and floods and collapses and everything else, you think we're going to flake out _now?_ Be serious."

Brool said, "Yeah, that goes for me too." Brio and Balsam nodded their agreement.

Cantus smiled warmly. "Thank you."

"No problem. Someone needs to keep his eyes open while you're dreaming." He and Cantus both chuckled.

"And now, we should be getting back underground. Thank you for your time."

"See you soon," she replied.

Philo and Gunge, hearing an opportunity, chorused, "The Trash Heap has spoken! Nyeah."

* * *

The garden was pleasant enough when they didn't have to worry about the Gorgs, and they had enjoyed the informative if unusual picnic lunch, but they were glad to be back underground, in the safety of the caves.

Murray asked Cantus, "Are radishes really worth dodging Gorgs for?"

"I think so. Music is food for the soul, but Fraggles need food for the body as well. It is a pity that it has become be a point of contention."

Murray shrugged. He didn't get what was so special about a big, spicy root, but then Cantus didn't eat fish. Changing the subject, he said, "You really think you can change that?"

Cantus replied, "No, I do not."

Murray gave him a look. "What?"

"Long ago I learned that I cannot change people's minds. What I can do is plant the seeds of ideas in their minds. If those seeds grow, then people may make changes themselves."

"Sounds like you changing things to me."

"If I were to do so, the changes would be meaningless."

"Yeah, right." Murray understood Cantus's reasoning. He had once discovered the skill of convincing, and found it dangerous and immoral to manipulate people that way. But, semantics aside, Cantus comes in, and things change. He doesn't even do it on purpose. Was it the magic of the pipe, or Cantus's charisma, or the music? Murray honestly couldn't say. Maybe it was everything.

Cantus remarked, "Who knows, we may find another Minstrel here."

"A colony like this? Yeah, could be," Murray answered.

Cantus cocked his head and held up a hand for a moment. The other Minstrels heard the voice of a Fraggle singing softly to herself farther down the tunnel.

"Follow the song of your heart,  
Follow it into the sky.  
Never be frightened in thunder and lightning,  
Follow it way up high,  
Follow it way up high."

She stopped skipping around and said to herself, "Oh, I love to sing."

Cantus said, "And I love to listen."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, Mokey's little ditty_,_ the episode _Mokey and The Minstrels_ (excerpted here), and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	23. Chapter 23

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 23  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a frosty winter morning. The Fraggle colony the Minstrels were currently visiting was comfortable enough, as they had blocked the breeziest tunnel mouths and placed fire bowls around the central cavern. That and the heat generated by dozens of Fraggles running about took off the worst of the chill. Still, everyone wore warm clothes. When it was the coldest, most dangerous time of the year, one couldn't be too careful.

Cantus was layered up, a thick sweater under his robe and a cape and scarf over it, mittens, and socks of bootlike thickness. Murray said, "You're out of your mind, boss," but he didn't mean it.

"I will see you soon," Cantus replied. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Yeah, you too."

Cantus left without fanfare. The other Minstrels felt strange about this. They had been traveling together for so long, they almost didn't know what to do with themselves. Cantus had assured them that they would be able to think of something. And, Murray thought, why shouldn't Cantus give them a break from the Minstrel act, and not coincidentally go off by himself for a while? Everyone's entitled to kick back now and again.

The Minstrels looked at each other. After a beat Balsam asked, "What do we do now?"

Murray answered, "I don't know about you, but I'm going fishing."

* * *

As Cantus walked through the cold, windy tunnels, he felt strangely nostalgic. His home had been far to the north, and he remembered some very bitter winters. This was cold, certainly, and perhaps dangerous for the Fraggles born here. But Cantus was covered by fur where they had bare skin, and in winter he had a little more padding for insulation. The cold was merely uncomfortable to him.

He daydreamed as he walked, recalling old faces, friends and family he had not seen since he and Murray left home uncountable days ago. There were things he had not tasted in that long. The morels that were a staple of their diet up north were unknown here. Some day, he told himself, he was going to go back there.

* * *

When he neared Fraggle Rock he could sense the excitement in the air, tension barely held in check. They were good and ready for the Festival of the Bells. So was he. After he had joined their celebration last year The World's Oldest Fraggle, who had officiated at the ceremony, had asked him to take over. Cantus had agreed, and had spent days with the Storyteller, learning the lore until he understood the meaning of the festival. Even though the Fraggles themselves knew the Festival by heart, it would not be enough for Cantus merely to mimic the World's Oldest Fraggle's performance.

He saw the light of the Great Hall. At the same time the Fraggles closest to that entrance spotted him, and began singing the Carol of The Promise. He sang with them as he walked to the center of the cavern.

"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,  
There's a dream of green that needs to wake.  
A password and a promise  
That the Earth will never ever break.  
It's coming, feel it humming  
In the hearts we share with rock and sky,  
So raise your voices high!"

The song continued for several rounds, until by general consensus it came to an end. Cantus raised a hand and called, "Hark, Fraggles!"

Wembley raised a hand and called back gleefully, "Hark, Cantus!"

"I am happy to be with you today for the Festival of the Bells, the most wondrous of all Fraggle celebrations."

Red, who was at the moment restraining another Fraggle, said, "The same goes for us too, right, Gobo?"

Gobo answered, "Yeah, sure, but-"

A pile of clothes with Boober in the center said, "I know, Gobo. It's hard to register enthusiasm when you're freezing to death."

Cantus looked around, as if listening to the cold wind blowing through the cave. "Ah, the rock is slowing down. The ceremony must begin."

Gobo broke away from Red. "Excuse me-"

The other Fraggles listened raptly as Cantus continued, "The giant Weeba Beast guarded the bell in the days when the Rock was small-"

Gobo held up a map. "I know, I know, and look, I've got proof-"

Cantus held up a hand, silencing Gobo. "Now that the Rock has grown and layers of stone cover the Great Bell we no longer travel to the heart. At least not on foot. Instead, we remember."

Wembley gleefully interjected, "Oh, remember, I love that part!"

"All Fraggles the rock over ring their bells. All together. All at the same time." He looked around at the Fraggles who were listening eagerly. "Our bells wake the Great Bell. The Great Bell rings, and the Rock keeps moving for another year."

Red burst out, "Oh, isn't it fantastic?!"

Icy wind was ruffling Cantus's hair. "Oh, now it grows colder. Let the festival begin!" he cried.

The Fraggles cheered excitedly. They knew how the festival went; Cantus could watch and enjoy it with the rest of the Fraggles, only occasionally doing a little patter between one part and the next and, of course, leading the singing.

Gobo's voice rose above the others'. "No! Wait!" He asked Cantus point-blank, "Have _you_ ever seen the Great Bell?"

"Not with my eyes," Cantus calmly replied.

"Well, then, how do you know that it really exists?"

Shocked, Red shouted in a whisper, "Gobo, what're you _saying?!"_

Gobo shushed her. Cantus said, "We _see_ with our eyes. We _know_ with our hearts." He pointed to his eyes, then tapped his chest. "Outside. Inside."

Red snapped, "There, he answered your stupid question!"

Gobo said, "What kind of an answer is that?"

"The kind that follows your question."

Gobo shouted to all the Fraggles in the Great Hall, "Well, I've got a better answer. I'm going to bring you the Great Bell of Fraggle Rock!"

The assembled Fraggles exclaimed in surprise. Cantus asked calmly, "Why do you want to look for something that's so easily found?"

"So I can see it and-and show everybody that it really exists! So this holiday will _mean_ something!" Gobo blustered.

Wembley said, "But, Gobo, it already means something."

Cantus said, "You will find the Great Bell at the heart of the Rock-"

"I know. And that's where I'm headed."

Red exclaimed, "But, Gobo, what about the festival? What if you're not back in time?"

"We'd have to ring the bells without you," Wembley said, appalled at the idea.

"It's either that or freeze," Boober quavered.

"Don't worry, I'll be back in time. So wait, wait until I bring you the bell."

Red said, "But you could take forever!"

"The heart of the Rock may be farther away than you think. Then again, it may be closer."

"Well, I've got my maps! I know exactly where I'm going! So, so promise, promise you'll wait!"

Red began, "Not on your-"

Wembley answered, "We promise, Gobo!"

"Okay, now, don't worry, I'll be back in time. I promise!" Map in hand, Gobo left the Great Hall.

Everyone stared, aghast, after the Fraggle who had brought the Festival of the Bells to a grinding halt. This was shocking! This was unbelievable!

This, Cantus thought, was getting very interesting.

* * *

An hour later, the Fraggles in the great Hall were huddling around the fires and shivering. They had not had the heart to continue the Festival of the Bells, and without their usual energy expenditure, the chill was seeping into their bodies.

Boober said, "Am I mistaken, or is it getting colder in here?"

Mokey said, "Ooh, it always gets colder as the Rock slows down."

Red said, "Wembley, how could you have promised Gobo we'd wait for him?"

"Well, he promised to bring us the Great Bell of Fraggle Rock."

"Oh, fantastic. So why couldn't he have gone on his heroic search days ago, on his own time?"

Cantus stepped close, startling Red. "We do the things we have to do when we have to do them. Not sooner, not later."

Boober said, "Well, I think we're going to have to ring the bells a little bit on the sooner side."

"Gee, I wonder what it's like being frozen forever," Mokey mused.

Boober replied, "I wonder what it's like to be able to feel your hands and feet." To the others he said, "I think we should put on the Weeba Beast costume now."

"For luck?" Mokey asked.

"No, for warmth."

Red exclaimed, "Well, I think we should go get Gobo and drag him back here! I'm gonna go find him."

Cantus raised a hand to stop her. "No one must leave. The tunnels are too cold now. You'll freeze."

Upset, Wembley said, "B-b-but what about Gobo? He didn't even take his mittens!"

Cantus said, "I will find Gobo. You will wait here. We do not have much time and we must use all of it."

Boober stammered, "B-but what if the, what if the Rock stops while you're gone?"

"There will be motion in the stillness as there is music in the silence."

Cantus left the Great Hall. He heard some of the consternation behind himself. They would be all right a while longer. They were still fighting the cold. As long as they were determined to live, they would.

* * *

Cantus was able to follow Gobo; he had left clear footprints—and occasional skid marks—in the frost on the cave floor. Cantus was impressed. He mused, "I'm surprised he got this far. He may be as determined as he is wrong. I admire that." He looked around, then at his hands. "It grows colder. I should have brought my mittens." He folded his hands under his arms.

* * *

The wind blew harder and harder through the deep tunnels, trying to leach the warmth from Cantus's body. He could survive this, he knew. He wouldn't enjoy it, but he was in no real danger as long as he ignored the discomfort. Gobo, on the other hand—Cantus hoped that his resolve would be enough to keep him moving. If he gave in and stopped…

He heard a voice in the distance, and a metallic clinking. Gobo's voice. And metal? What would metal be doing in these deep caves? Cantus hurried toward the sounds.

He found Gobo looking back down the tunnel at a scrap of paper the wind had torn from his hands. "Oh, no! There goes my map! Oh, now I'll never find the way!" He clung miserably to an ice stalagmite, trying to stay on his feet.

Cantus walked toward him. Confused, Gobo shouted, "What're you?! Say something!"

"Listen."

"Oh, it's Cantus. What're you doing here?"

"Listen!" Cantus repeated.

"Listen to what?! All I can hear are my t-teeth chattering!"

"You should have brought your mittens."

"Oh, now ya tell me."

"Listen!"

Then Gobo heard the sound of metal clanking against rock. "The bell! I knew I could find it!" He let go of the ice stalagmite and forced himself to go forward, past Cantus, toward the sound. Cantus turned and watched him walk to a metal hoop attached to a door in the cave rock. "This is it! The cave of the Great Bell! Right where the map said."

"You have reached your goal. Now let's go back. Your friends are waiting," Cantus urged.

"They're waiting to see the Great Bell, and I'm gonna bring it to 'em!"

"You don't need to bring it to them. They already have it."

Grasping the hoop, Gobo said, "Aren't you going to help me?"

"I just did."

Gobo pulled with all this strength. The rock slab began to shift. "It's coming free!" Gobo shouted. He dodged out of the way as it fell outward with a billowing cloud of rock dust. Cantus watched as Gobo hurried into the cave beyond and looked around. "What? _What?_" Gobo stepped out and shouted, distraught, "The cave is—is _empty!_ There, there is no bell! It's all a _lie!"_

Cantus put a hand on Gobo's back and began leading him back the way he had come.

* * *

Gobo looked close to despair. Cantus's heart ached for him. Gobo could not be content to believe what others told him; he had to find things out for himself. He had sought literal truth where it was not to be found, and he now believed that there was no truth. He had learned nothing yet. He must not give up now. Cantus gazed at the orange Fraggle, who looked so small and sad, and remembered the time when he had tried to tell others of his own message, and been ignored. It was a terrible feeling. He could not have endured for long had he been alone, and he would see to it that Gobo did not give up either. He must keep questioning, keep seeking the truths that nobody suspected. Gobo had the bright spark he had been looking for, Cantus realized. This young Fraggle might be the one.

When Gobo spoke, Cantus was glad to hear the anger in his voice. Anger would keep him going until reason set in. "There is no Great Bell. What'm I going to tell the others?" He folded his arms around himself and shivered. "Oh, Cantus, all of a sudden it seems so, so cold."

"What seems, is," Cantus replied. "It is the time. The rock stands still."

"Aw, that isn't true! That's just a story," Gobo said sullenly.

Cantus stopped and looked back at Gobo. "So you say," he said softly. He stopped Gobo with an outstretched hand, then gestured at the Great Hall, which was right before them. "Behold."

Gobo rushed forward. His voice echoed in the silence and stillness as he shouted, "Hey! Everybody! I've been to the cave of the Great Bell and there's no-" He stopped, and stared in horror. "Oh, no!"

Cantus walked slowly forward as Gobo rushed over to the still forms of his friends. "Boober! Mokey! Oh, oh, Red! I didn't mean to—oh, no, Wembley." He gazed sadly at his closest friend, now stiff and unconscious. "Oh, poor Wembley." He demanded of Cantus, "How did this happen?"

"You tell me," Cantus answered.

Gobo shook his head. "We didn't get back in time. We didn't have our, our festival. Aw, but what difference does that make? There is no Great Bell!"

"Are you sure?" Cantus asked.

"Well, I followed the map. You were with me. I've been to the center of the Rock." Gobo's voice cracked.

"But have you been to the _heart_ of the Rock?"

"Huh? I don't understand."

Judging that Gobo was finally ready to learn, Cantus laid a gentle hand on his back. "Listen, and hear what I say for a change. Last year there was no Great Bell in that cave of yours and the Rock did not stop, did it?"

Unwillingly Gobo said, "No, but-"

"Last year the cold came, and it went away just as it always has. What is different this year?"

Looking at the ground, Gobo said, "Nothing, except…" He looked up. "We didn't ring our bells!' He picked up a bell that had fallen to the floor and rang it. "Aw, but what good does ringing bells do? There's no Great Bell at the center of the Rock!"

Cantus explained, "But there is a Great Bell at the _heart_ of the Rock."

Gobo saw Wembley twitch. He hurried over. "Wembley? Wembley! He's moving! It's working!" He rang his bell again. Red, Boober, and Mokey began to stir as well. "The Great Bell is at the heart of the Rock! I went to the center, not the heart of the Rock!" Excitedly he exclaimed, "The heart is—is here! _Here!"_ He rang the bell hard. "Wembley! Wembley! Ring your bell!" He put the bell in Wembley's hand. The stiff fingers curled around the handle, and Wembley swayed his arm, slowly at first. Bells clinked as Boober, Red, and Mokey, who were also recovering, picked them up. Mokey, quickest to bounce back, exclaimed, "Oh, yes!"

As Wembley softly rang his bell Gobo said, "The Great Bell is my bell. It's Wembley's bell! _Our_ bells keep the Rock moving! It's our music that keeps the Rock alive!"

Cantus nodded. Gobo had learned what Cantus had known all along: that their belief was the reality of the Festival of the Bells. Faith was what they needed to stay alive in the harshest times. If he had told Gobo this at the beginning, Gobo would not have believed him. Because he had discovered it for himself, he would take it to heart, and be stronger for it.

All the Fraggles who had succumbed were now waking up, revived by the ringing of the bells, and were picking up their own bells. Soon they were ringing them loudly and shouting and laughing their joy of living and defiance of the cold.

Happily Wembley said, "Oh, it's good to have ya back, Gobo!"

Gobo answered, "Aw, it's good to be with you, Wembley, at the heart of the Rock!"

Cantus pointed upward and said to them, "Listen."

Wembley and Gobo listened. In the ringing of the bells, just at the edge of their hearing, they thought they could hear a softer, deeper sound, like the beating of a heart. The Heart of the Rock.

* * *

Soon the Fraggles were back to their old selves. Gobo understood now; they kept each other alive with their music and their bells and, simply, each other. He hadn't needed to look for some ancient thing hidden away in a cave. He could see and hear and touch what was real: his fellow Fraggles, and the joy he shared with them.

He went over to the Minstrel, "Cantus, uh, I don't know how to say this, but, uh, thanks."

"You are welcome," Cantus replied with a smile.

"I feel bad about messing up the Festival of the Bells. Everyone was looking forward to it. I mean, it's not the same without the Weeba Beast and everything. Do you think we can…?"

"Give it another try?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

Gobo looked around. Fraggles were running around and ringing the bells and having fun…but they did that every day, and The Festival of The Bells was special. He turned back to Cantus and said, "Yeah."

"Then…" Cantus began to sing the opening carol.

"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,  
There's a dream of green that needs to wake."

Other Fraggles joined in, excited that the Festival was going to begin for real this time.

"A password and a promise  
That the Earth will never ever break.  
It's coming, feel it humming  
In the hearts we share with rock and sky,  
So raise your voices high."

They began singing in polyphony.

"There's a rhythm, there's a rising,  
(Deep beneath the snow)  
There's a dream of green that needs to wake.  
A password and a promise  
(Seeds begin to grow)  
That the Earth will never ever break.  
It's coming, feel it humming  
(Sun shines through the rain)  
In the hearts we share with rock and sky,  
So raise your voices _high!"  
_(We will live again!)

* * *

Fraggle Rock, the song _There's A Promise,_ _The Bells of Fraggle Rock_ (heavily excerpted here), and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	24. Chapter 24

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 24  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was early evening when the Minstrels arrived at the Gorgs' garden. They had learned to come by the hole near the well, as the one that led into the Gorg's castle was too risky. It wasn't the Gorgs they planned to see, anyway. Before leaving the tunnel they closed the shutters on their lanterns to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

The mother Gorg was in the Garden, hanging a huge, flat piece of fabric over a rope. When she finished and went indoors the Minstrels went into the garden and picked a few edibles, avoiding the water dripping from the fabric and the resulting mud puddles, then carried the food to the Trash Heap. Before they arrived they heard voices.

"You're kiddin'! Philo'd be a smoosh on the ground!"

_"Me?!_ Who says it'd be _me?_ You're the charismatic one."

"True, true. But I'm still not getting' flattened by no Gorg!"

Marjory, who was waiting until her companions' squabble ran its course, glanced over and saw the Minstrels. She paused, then said, "Never mind, boys."

Philo and Gunge looked up at her, surprised. She said to the Minstrels, "You have perfect timing. I need your help."

"Certainly," Cantus said. He and the other Minstrels sat down at the edge of the dump and began passing around bits of the produce they had picked.

Marjory pointed across the garden. "Do you see that?"

Cantus looked up. "Yes. It's laundry day."

"Not that! The moon!"

Cantus looked again. When he squinted Murray glanced over. "It's a thin moon, and it's blue instead of white," the Pisca said.

"That's right. This is the night of the blue moon. It will be a very important night for Junior Gorg. He will need guidance. I have the wisdom he needs, but you have one thing I do not have."

"Legs," Cantus guessed.

"Exactly."

"Tell us about this important night," Cantus said.

As the Minstrels ate their picnic Marjory explained the Gorgish tradition of the Royal Kazoo. On the night of the blue moon, the rising Gorg prince would play the Kazoo, witnessed by five Fraggles. If he played it, he would be destined for greatness. If he tried and failed, however, he would be banished from the castle for one hundred years. Junior would soon see the blue moon and want to play the Kazoo. However, he did not know the risk he would run.

"A hundred years?" Murray said in disbelief. A hundred cycles of the seasons. He did not reckon in years; cave inhabitants focused on day-to-day life. But he knew he had not seen a hundred winters. Less than half that, he guessed.

Cantus asked, "Is it our right to interfere?"

Marjory answered, "No. But we can offer _guidance_. Junior is old enough to become king, but because his mother and father treat him as a child, he still acts like one. He must grow up, and that begins with making his own decisions and taking his own risks."

Cantus nodded. That was an answer he could agree with. He asked, "What would you have me do?"

"First," she said, "he needs five Fraggle witnesses. Bring them up to the garden. Then…help Junior find what is within himself." She leaned close. "The Fraggles have told me all about you. I have a feeling you're perfectly suited for _that _task."

The other Minstrels chuckled. Cantus said, "I will do my best."

Murray asked, "How can we talk to Junior? When it comes to little folks like us, Gorgs stomp first and ask questions later. Except they don't ask questions."

Cantus said, "I will take that task. It is not a risk I would expect any other Minstrel to bear. Now I will go get the witnesses. You remain here. And…"

Murray said wryly, "Listen."

"Exactly," Cantus said. He took one of the lanterns, stuck its staff under his backpack to leave his hands free, and left to return to Fraggle Rock.

Balsam asked, "How's he going to get Fraggles to come? They don't like the Gorgs any more than the Gorgs like them, do they?"

"Eh, don't worry, he'll do it," Murray said, staring out at the garden. "I'm wondering about how he's gonna talk to a Gorg without getting thumped."

* * *

Cantus walked through the tunnels leading to the Fraggle colony, playing his pipe as he went. As ever, flowers bloomed and cave creatures turned their faces to the music, as if all of nature was his audience.

He made his way to the cave where Gobo and Wembley lived. He had been watching them both, and he had high hopes for them. If anyone would be brave enough to witness a Gorg ritual, and empathic enough to understand its importance, it would be these two. And, as luck had it, they were both there. He lowered the Magic Pipe and said "Hark, Fraggles."

Excitedly Wembley said "Hark, magical mystical Minstrel!"

Cantus declared, "I need five Fraggle witnesses. You will do."

Gobo and Wembley exchanged confused glances. Gobo said, "Uh, but there's only two of us."

"Two can soon become five. Get three others and meet me as soon as you can at the entrance to the Gorgs' garden."

Gobo said, "Uh, Gorgs' garden? _Tonight?"_

"Tonight is the blue moon."

Wembley said, "I thought blue moons were only in legends."

"This particular blue moon is of particular importance to Junior Gorg. And _you_ must help him." He raised the pipe and walked off. He knew they would answer his call; they were brave and, more importantly, curious enough.

* * *

Murray and the other Minstrels watched from the wall behind the Trash Heap as Junior bade his radishes goodnight one by one. It was a sight somewhere between cute and grotesque. "Him? A king?" Brool said.

"Who knows? What're the Gorgs kings of, anyway? A farm," Murray answered.

Junior glanced over his shoulder, then caught sight of the waxing moon. He exclaimed, "A blue moon?! Oh boy! Oh, wait'll I tell Pa! Hey, Pa! Pa!" He ran into the castle.

The Minstrels could not hear the conversation inside clearly, but they could tell that it involved the blue moon and a kazoo. Murray looked back and told the Trash Heap, "They're talking about it now. How did you know about all that?"

She replied, "I'm a trash heap. In time, _everything_ comes to me. You can find out a lot about the world from its garbage."

"Oh, right. Yeah."

Cantus reached the surface. He said, "Hark, Murray."

He was deep in mystic mode, Murray noted. "Hark, Cantus. They're talking about the Kazoo now. Where are the witnesses?"

"They are coming. Now I must prepare to talk to Junior Gorg."

Cantus looked perfectly calm, but Murray knew what a good bluffer Cantus was. However, it would take more than clever talk to get them through this alive, let alone successfully. Murray said, "Yeah, I had a thought about that. Come with me. 'Round the back of the garden. Everyone."

He hopped down from the wall into the trash, then hustled away. Marjory didn't mind. Trash heaps weren't particularly sensitive. She only wished she could turn around to see what they would do.

* * *

Junior walked out into the garden and kicked a box, complaining, "Gee, I don't feel like checkin' the laundwy. I'm gonna go in there and tell Pa what I feel like doin' is playin' the kazoo! Yeah, I'll show 'em who's boss." He turned and marched to the door of the castle. Then he heard his parents talking about the Royal Kazoo, and crouched behind the door to listen.

The Minstrels reached the back of the garden. Murray, knowing they might not have much time, said, "See that sheet? Stand well behind it, with a lantern behind you, and throw a shadow onto it."

"A big shadowy figure," Cantus said thoughtfully.

"And one he'd have a hard time finding if he looks behind the sheet," Murray said.

Cantus nodded. "I like it. You all, stay hidden back here. It will be safest."

"And we'll be on hand just in case a song comes up."

Cantus laughed. What was the chance of that _not_ happening? He said, "Thank you."

"Go get 'em."

They did not have time to test the principle. Junior backed away from the door, distraught at what he had overheard. "Oh no! Pa thinks I'm gonna fail! Then I'll be banished to the swamp for a hundwed years!" He sat down on a box and began to cry.

From well behind the sheet Cantus said, projecting as loudly as he could, "Ohhhh, young master Gorg!" Murray opened the shutter on the lantern and moved it quickly to center the shadow on the sheet.

They heard Junior say, "Who said that?"

Cantus turned so the profile of his shadow would face Junior. "Cease this weeping and get your chin up. Both of 'em."

"W-w-w-who are you?" Junior stammered.

Murray, Brool, Brio, and Balsam cheered silently. Junior was speaking to Cantus's shadow! It was working!

"You should be thinking less about who I am and more about who _you_ are.

"You…could be a great Gorg king."

Junior objected, "Me? No, I'm just a dumb Gorg pwince."

The Minstrels knew a musical cue when they heard one. They picked up their instruments. Cantus chanted,  
"You could be a coward. You could be a king.  
You could be the kind of kid who teaches us to sing.  
You could be whatever your little heart desires.  
You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

The Minstrels began playing. Cantus sang,  
"Sometimes a mountain, sometimes a stone.  
Sometimes a river windin' 'round to find a home.  
You could crawl away. You could fly higher.  
You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!  
You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

Junior turned away from the sheet. He sang,  
"Why do I keep wanderin' in my dweams today?  
Why do I keep seeming like so many mes?  
How can I be turned awound so many ways?  
When will I know who I want to be?  
"Oh, oh, _nuts!"_

Cantus sang,  
"You could be a cowboy! You could be a creep!  
You could be the king of all the good things in your sleep!"

Junior exclaimed, "I could?"

"You could be the person that you most admire!"

"Wow!"

"You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

"I could be a walkin', talkin', bweathin' ball of fire?"

"Yeah! You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

Junior, said, "Wow! I wish I could be a great Gorg wuler!"

Cantus answered, "You could! If you swear to play the Royal Kazoo before five Fraggle witnesses tonight when the blue moon is full!"

Junior hesitated. "Gee, I don't know. I just…"

Cantus cut him off. "Yes or no, no or yes."

"So many questions! Well, um…yes!"

"Do you swear by the solemn oath of the Gorgs?"

Both raised their left hands and chorused, "Hey nonny nonny nonny, hey nonny ha-cha-cha."

Cantus held out a hand. Junior slapped the sheet where its shadow fell. Cantus's shadow slapped back and said, "All right. Meet me tonight when the blue moon is full."

"Okay, your shadowyship."

Cantus laughed spookily. Murray closed the shutter on the lantern. The Minstrels waited in silence, not daring to make a sound, until they heard Junior go back inside. Then Murray slapped Cantus on the back and said, "Crazy Fraggle!" He grinned widely. On Murray, a grin was very wide indeed.

* * *

Cantus hastened down to the Fraggle colony, looking for his five witnesses. The moon would be full soon, and they must be there in time. As he neared Gobo and Wembley's room he heard Boober say, "Well, Cantus better have a great reason if he thinks he's going to drag me up to the Gorgs' garden in the middle of the night, and I'm going to tell him when I see him."

Mildly Cantus said, "Tell me what?"

Boober startled and squawked. "Cantus… uh….I wanted to tell you I have complete confidence in you."

"Thank you," Cantus said.

Gobo said, "Yeah, we all do. But it would be nice to know what's goin' on."

"I shall talk as we walk, and you will know all you need to know. Walk this way."

He sauntered out. The others looked at each other and shrugged, then sauntered after him.

* * *

When they arrived at the exit to the garden Cantus finished, "So now you know all you need to know."

"I don't know about that," Boober said.

"Even as we speak the blue moon waxes and Junior Gorg is putting the Royal Kazoo back where he found it. Come." He led them out into the garden, to wait just behind the low wall bordering the garden.

Gobo said, "Okay, we're here. Now what do we do?"

"Listen," Cantus said. "And look!"

Junior crept out of the castle. Softly he said to himself, "I did it. I did it! I put back the Royal Kazoo and they'll never even knew I took it. Then I won't have to be banished." Then he glanced at the sheet on the clothesline, and paused. "Oh…I gave my oath to the shadowy figure…the Solemn Oath of the Gorgs. I can't go against my oath, can I?"

After a long, thoughtful pause, he went back inside.

Red said to Cantus, "I still don't see why we should care about the Gorgs."

"We are coming to the time of answers. The moon is almost full."

Junior burst out of the doors, followed by his parents. The Fraggles ducked down behind the wall.

They watched as Junior confessed to his parents that he had tried to play the Royal Kazoo and failed. Ma asked Pa to show him how to play it, and Pa admitted that he had never tried to play it himself, and neither had the previous three generations of Gorg kings. None had taken the risk. Thinking the instrument might be broken, Ma attached it to a set of bellows.

It played. It was not broken.

The Fraggles waited, eager to see what happened next. The Gorgs went inside, then came back out again. Pa said, "Heh heh, go ahead, Junior, try it."

Junior was carrying something behind an arm, but in the twilight the Fraggles could not see what it was. He said, "Are you sure this is gonna work?"

"Oh, trust me," Pa said.

Junior shrugged and raised the Kazoo to his lips. It sounded a single note. Gobo, Red, Mokey, Boober, and Wembley were impressed, but Cantus was not. Boober murmured, "Just when I thought I was gonna get rid of him."

Pa laughed. "It works! I'm a genius."

Junior looked unhappy. "Well, I don't-" he began, taking the bellows out from beneath his arm.

Pa shouted, "What are you doing? Don't—put that away! Somebody might see!"

Appalled, Red exclaimed, "That's cheating!" The others nodded indignantly.

Junior said, "Pa, that's cheating."

The Fraggles watched as the Gorgs argued over the playing of the horn. Junior ended the argument by saying in a surprisingly firm voice, "Please, Ma, Pa, I have decided to decide this myself."

Amazed, Red said, "I'm starting to like this guy!"

Junior told his parents to wait inside, and, surprisingly, they did. Alone outside, Junior mused, "To kazoo or not to kazoo. What is the answer? Should I follow my parents? Or should I follow my conscience? Maybe I should just run away."

Behind the wall, the Fraggles were watching and rooting for Junior to face the music, to keep his oath.

Junior sat on a box. "What was it the shadowy figure said? I could be a cweep, or I could be all the good things that I dweam of in my sleep. Oh, me, a walkin', talkin', bweathin' ball of fire." He stood again. "Well, it's time to face the music. Or the lack thereof." He looked around, then spotted the Fraggles behind the low wall. He went over and crouched down. "Well, I'm here. I gave my solemn oath as a Gorg that I would appear, and here I am. You must be the five Fwaggle witnesses."

They answered, "That's us."

Cantus, unnoticed, crept away. He hurried over to the back of the garden where the other Minstrels were waiting for him. Enthusiastically Murray whispered, "The net's full of fish. Pull 'em in!"

Junior asked, "Where's the shadow? The shadowy figure's supposed to be here."

Murray opened the lantern shutter. The sheet lit up, and Cantus's shadow said, "I am here."

The Fraggle Five stared. Mokey murmured, "Does that shadowy figure remind you of someone?"

"Yeah," Gobo said softly.

The shadow pointed up. "The blue moon is full. Junior Gorg, do you have your Royal Kazoo?"

He held it up, still concealing the bellows behind one arm. "Yes, your shadowyship."

"Then it is time to hear you play."

"But I can't," Junior said, his eyes downcast.

"Why do you hesitate? The moon is full! It's time to play."

"I can't play it! He pulled the Kazoo off the bellows. "But I gave my oath, so I'll still try!" He dropped the bellows on the ground, raised the Kazoo, and blew.

A single note sounded in the night air.

Junior looked at the instrument in amazement. "I—I played it!" he exclaimed, astonished. "But how come I can play it now?"

The shadow answered, "Junior Gorg, you are the first Gorg in memory to take the chance to play the Royal Kazoo, and you succeeded because you honored your oath. _That_ is the way of greatness."

"Yippee!" Junior cried. He raised the Kazoo and played a simple tune.

The Fraggles watched, amazed, as Cantus joined with his Magic Pipe. Cantus sang,  
"You could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

Junior sang,  
"I could be a walkin', talkin', breathin' ball of fire!"

The Fraggles joined the song, and Ma and Pa even came out and danced. In his enthusiasm Junior swung the Kazoo and knocked the sheet off the line. The Minstrels hurried away before they could be seen. When Cantus returned to the witnesses, they were cheering for Junior.

* * *

After the party quieted down and the Fraggles and Gorgs were back in their homes, the Minstrels returned to the Trash Heap. She said, "Oh, that was wonderful! I knew that you could show him the right path."

He raised his left hand. "I gave my oath," he told her.

"And you even brought the Fraggles and the Gorgs together for a little while. I've been trying to do that for years!"

"Thank you for the challenge," Cantus replied, grinning. He _was_ pleased with himself.

Murray patted his back and said, "You're gonna be smug about this for days. Well, go ahead, you earned it. I never guessed I'd see it."

"What kind of king will he be?" Brio asked.

The Trash Heap said, "Who can say? But by taking the chance to prove himself, and talking to Fraggles, he's already done more than four generations of Gorgs have. Who knows what he will do when he has the crown? He could surprise us all."

* * *

Fraggle Rock, the song _Ball of Fire,_ _Junior Faces the Music_ (heavily excerpted here), and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	25. Chapter 25

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 25  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night, but that was elsewhere in the world. Here, in the Gorgs' garden, it was a pleasant spring morning.

The Minstrels surfaced and listened. Junior Gorg was in the garden, tilling the soil with a rakelike harrow in preparation for planting. He was facing away from them. They went around the garden wall quietly and quickly, before he turned and spotted them. Before they reached their destination Cantus paused and unthreaded his Magic Pipe from his backpack. He glanced at the others. They understood; he wanted to make a proper entrance. They readied their instruments.

Junior Gorg looked up when he heard the soft tune. Fraggle music. He had been hearing it more and more lately. He glanced around. The Fraggles were nowhere to be seen. Oh well. It was still pleasant to know that they were somewhere nearby.

The Minstrels walked to the Trash Heap, playing their tune. Philo and Gunge forebore to interrupt with their usual introductory patter; Marjory liked their music, and, well, it _was_ nice to listen to. Marjory rose and regarded them. When they finished playing Cantus declared, "I am in the presence of the wise Trash Heap. "

Philo and Gunge looked at each other. Indignantly Gunge said, "Hey, you're steppin' on our lines."

"Never mind that," Marjory said. Addressing the Minstrels, she said, "Where have you been?"

Cantus told her, "We have been traveling the Rock, uniting it with music."

"You should have been _here!_ Such wonderful things have happened, I can't begin to tell you! Junior Gorg was crowned King."

That soon? "Is he a good king?"

She chuckled. "He is no king at all. He abolished the monarchy, saying that the world was fine as it is and doesn't need to be ruled. He threw away his crown. In front of five Fraggle witnesses."

Cantus digested that quietly. From what he had seen, the Gorgs had been clinging to the empty trappings of power for generations. Both he and the Marjory had seen the possibility of change in Junior. Neither would have imagined that he would break with Gorgic tradition completely. Cantus said, "What led him to do this?"

She answered, "He ate a magical Nirvana Tree leaf. It shrank him to your size, and for a little while he walked in the footsteps of a Fraggle. He made friends among the Fraggles, and he found out that they have names. Do you believe he never knew that? He had never realized that Fraggles are people! And he even came to _me_ for advice." She sat back, very pleased.

Impressed, Cantus said, "There have been many changes since we were here last."

"And that's not all. The Fraggles had a singing contest, and a Fraggle sang with a Doozer. That was the first time a Doozer has ever joined in Fraggle events. By the end, everyone was singing together, even Junior. Oh, it was beautiful!"

"I wish I had been here," Cantus said quietly.

Murray looked at Cantus. These were the very things that Cantus had been working for all his life, unity among the different people of the world. At least part of it had been accomplished through song. And it had happened without him. He laid a hand on Cantus's back and whispered, "Boss?"

Cantus looked up. Murray asked, "You okay?"

Cantus smiled. "I am very okay. Murray, we may not have been there to see these wonders, but what matters is that _they happened_, and the world is a better place because of that. The lesson has been learned!"

"These lessons must not be forgotten," the Trash Heap said in a very serious tone.

"Yes," Cantus said, nodding thoughtfully.

* * *

Murray had thought that Cantus would be upset by the news that the Fraggles here had not needed him to teach them. He found out how wrong he was during their processional. Cantus's manner was euphoric, even a little giddy. It was all Murray could do to keep a straight face as he sang.

Cantus shouted, "Hail, Fraggles!"

In unison they called back, "Hail, Cantus!"

Mokey eagerly said, "Ooh, Fraggledom welcomes Cantus, our mystical Minstrel who travels the rock uniting us with music!"

"Yeah!" Red exclaimed.

Cantus raised a hand and said solemnly, "I stand welcomed."

Gobo and Wembley ran into the Great Hall. Gobo began, "Cantus! The most amazing thing just happened in Outer Space! Well, I went out there, and the Silly Creature couldn't see me!"

Cantus replied, "Outer Space is not my concern. But it is yours."

"Well, I know! So don't you think this is really great? You see-"

"Yes, and I do see, and so will you."

Gobo looked puzzled. Red burst in, "Cantus, do you have a great new song for us this time?"

"I do."

Boober moaned, "Oh, not another great new song. They're always so thrilling. I'm sure it's bad for the digestion."

Red had just given Cantus an idea. He announced for all to hear, "This great new song is even greater than our usual great new song. In fact, it is the greatest!" The assembled Fraggles exclaimed in wonder. "It is…_The Song of Songs."_

"How thrilling," Mokey breathed.

Boober muttered, "Bye-bye, digestion," and slouched away.

Gobo was not ready to give up his point. "I just want to ask you, though, why couldn't the Silly Creature see me? Is it blind or am I invisible?"

Cantus answered, "Invisibility is in the eye of the beholder. The answer is _The Song of Songs_."

Eagerly Red asked, "But tell us, how does _The Song of Songs_ go?"

"If you listen, you will hear your part. For you are all part of the song! And the song is all part of you."

Mokey said to Red, "He's right! I do hear my part!" She started humming.

Red responded, "Hey, so do I!' She began singing with Mokey.

Gobo said, "I don't wanna hear my part. I want to go back to Outer Space!"

Red had tuned him out. "Hey! When can we sing _The Song of Songs?"_

"Yeah, yeah!" Wembley enthused.

Cantus declared, "We will sing _The Song of Songs_ when we hear The Honk of Honks!"

"The Honk of Honks?" Red repeated, puzzled.

"The Honk of Honks. And one of you must honk it!"

Gobo said, "Yeah, one of you can honk The Honk of Honks. I'm going back to Outer Space." He turned to leave.

"And that one is _Gobo!"_

Gobo stopped, then turned back. "What?"

Wembley, thrilled, said, "Gobo, did you hear that? You, of all the Fraggles in the Rock, get to honk The Honk of Honks! Wow! Wow! _Wow!"_

"But…why me?"

Cantus answered, "Because you are _you."_

Red griped, "Gobo has all the luck."

Cantus turned to her and shook his head. "Well, yes…" He nodded. "…and no."

"Well, what is The Honk of Honks, anyway?" Gobo asked.

"It's bigger than all of us because it is all of us. So go now and find The Honk of Honks! _The Song of Songs_ begins after the third snack. You have until then." He walked away, leaving them with that puzzle.

Boober chose that moment to enter the hall, wearing his apron and carrying a tray of cookies, and cheerfully announce, "Snack time!" Thrilling songs intimidated him, but he was at home with food. Everyone hurried over for some.

Across the hall, Cantus saw Gobo leave the hall, tail lashing. He followed him at a distance, munching a lemon swirl.

* * *

Gobo led him through a rising tunnel. The limestone gave way to strange straight rocks, all the same size, with white lines between them, and thick metal poles running horizontally across the space, at just the right height for an incautious Fraggle to bang his head on. The geometry was Doozer-ish, he thought as he waited, hearing Gobo's voice coming faintly through a tunnel in the flat wall.

Gobo came through the tunnel and nearly walked into Cantus. "Oh, I can't believe it! Cantus! The most amazing thing just happened."

Cantus shook his head and raised a hand, stopping Gobo. "The most amazing thing is _The Song of Songs_. But it will not start without The Honk of Honks, remember? Now you know what you must do, so do it! Now!" He walked off before Gobo could protest.

Of course Gobo would be frustrated, Cantus knew. Gobo was brave, intelligent, and adventurous. But he was also young, and often did not look past the surface to the true meaning. He had to learn to see with more than his eyes, and the only way to learn that was to do it. Cantus knew that from long experience.

* * *

When Cantus returned to the Great Hall, Gobo following reluctantly behind, the cave was full of Fraggles practicing their part of _The Song of Songs._ Wembley saw him first. "Hail, Cantus!" he cheerfully exclaimed.

"Hail, Wembley."

"Hail, Gobo!"

"Hi, Wembley," Gobo muttered.

Red asked, "Hey, Gobo, have you found The Honk of Honks yet?"

Mokey, Wembley, and Red were all listening eagerly. Gobo paused, then admitted, "No, I haven't even looked yet."

"What?" Wembley said.

Red rolled her eyes. "Well, get going, Gobo! What're you waiting for?"

Boober bounced into the hall with another tray. "Second snack!"

Wembley said, "Oh, hail Boober! Hail snacks! He went over to Gobo and said, "Gobo, you better hurry! One more snack and then it's time to sing _The Song of Songs_."

Annoyed, Gobo started off, saying, "All right, all right! The Honk of Honks can't be that difficult to find."

Cantus was standing in front of the stone Fraggle Horn. He said, "Not if you see when you look."

Gobo exclaimed, "The Fraggle Horn! Of course!" He went around to the mouthpiece, drew in a big breath, and blew. The sound echoed through the Great Hall and the passages beyond. Gobo said to Cantus, "That's it, right?"

Murray, shaking his head, said, "Wrong."

Cantus elucidated, "Right _and_ wrong."

"Huh?!"  
"That's _part_ of it, but not _all_ of it."

"What?!"

Red said, "You heard him, Gobo. That's _part_ of it, but not _all_ of it. Go find the rest!"

Gobo asked Cantus, "But where do I look?"

"Wherever there is something to find."

Cantus sauntered away, leaving Gobo with one more piece of the puzzle.

* * *

Gobo went up the tunnel that led to the Gorgs' Garden. When he returned he had a strange, battered, curly thing like a bent pipe that flared at one end. He attached it to the Fraggle Horn. Murray remarked, "You're sure this is it, are you? Because if you're wrong you're wastin' our time."

Cantus said, "No time is wasted time."

"Right. I forgot."

Gobo said, "Oh, don't worry. One Honk of Honks, comin' right up!"

He blew into the mouthpiece. The two horns made different sounds which somehow harmonized. But it wasn't enough. The Minstrels listened, shaking their heads.

"Well?" Gobo asked Cantus.

"It's part of it, but not all of it. You see, we're all part of everything, and everything is a part of us."

Cantus left again. The Minstrels watched as Gobo tried to figure out Cantus's riddle, despite the distraction Wembley provided.

* * *

Boober, who had just finished distributing his latest offering, said, "Third snack is over!"

"Oh boy!" Mokey said.

Wembley, who had been rehearsing his part while standing on his hands, turned rightside up and cried, "Ooh, that means it's time for _The Song of Songs!"_ He was vibrating with excitement.

Cantus said, "Correction: it's time for The Honk of Honks."

Red said, "But where's Gobo?"

Gobo hustled into the hall, carrying some strange things. "Here I am! And I've definitely got it all this time!"

Everybody watched as Gobo fitted a funnel-like device he had borrowed from the Doozers to a pink, Gorg-sized hair curler, then attached them both to the curved pipe. When he finished he said to Cantus, "There! Ready?"

"If you are."

Gobo took a deep breath, then blew hard. The chord, ranging from the deep bellow of the Fraggle horn to the squeak of the curler, was impressive. But it was still incomplete.

Gobo said, "Well? Aren't you going to start _The Song of Songs?"_

With a show of regret Cantus said, "We would if we could, but we can't, so we shan't."

Shocked, Gobo said, "What?"

"That wasn't The Honk of Honks."

"It wasn't?!"

Cantus raised his voice. "Sorry, everyone, _The Song of Songs_ is canceled."

All the Fraggles exclaimed in dismay. Gobo said, "Hey, now, wait a minute!"

Cantus told him, "You did what you did. It might have been all; it wasn't enough."

"Hey! But—but wait!"

Cantus turned away. Gobo's friends tried to comfort him, but Gobo was still angry at himself for failing. When he said, "Isn't there anything I can do?" Cantus looked back.

"You could have done everything. You did something. And now…there's nothing."

* * *

Gobo wandered despondently out of the Great Hall. He had failed. He had disappointed everyone. He didn't want to look anyone else in the face now. He walked back up the tunnel to Outer Space, muttering, "There's nothing like blowin' it to make you feel like you blew it. I've let everyone down. And there's nothing I can do about it." He looked up, started to see Canus waiting silently. "Cantus."

Cantus had anticipated he would come this way. He said quietly, "What's done is done. What is, is. What was, was. What will be, will be."

"What're you talking about?"

Cantus pointed. "You. What you haven't done."

"But I did everything I could."

"In that case, let's talk about something different which might be the same."

Gobo let out a breath and began walking. "I don't feel like it."

Cantus walked with him. "You did when you first came this morning. What was it you were so excited about?"

Gobo turned away. "Oh…it's not important now."

"Everything is important. Either than, or nothing is. I prefer the former."

"Well, it was just—I was excited because the Silly Creature couldn't see me."

Cantus nodded. "Ah, yes. The Silly Creature is one of _those."_

"Those what?"

"Those who can't see, see?"

"No…"

"Takes one to know one."

"But _why_ couldn't it see me?"

Gently Cantus said, "Listen. I'm going to make this simple. Has the Silly Creature ever touched you?"

"Oh, no, I'm much too fast for it."

It, Cantus noted. As if the Silly Creature was a thing, not a person. Of course 'it' couldn't see Gobo; neither was real to the other yet. He asked, "Have you ever touched the Silly Creature?"

"No. Why should I?"

"'Cause you need to. You must let the Silly Creature touch you, and you must touch him. Once touched, he will see, and so will you."

"But, why?" Gobo asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Why not? And remember, you don't need your hand to touch just as you don't need your eyes to see."

"But-"

Cantus said softly and earnestly, "Do it for me. Do it for yourself. Do it for everyone."

"Okay. If you say so!"

Cantus walked off. He couldn't have made it any clearer. Gobo would figure it out. He had to. He couldn't come this far only to fall short. He _must_ take the final step!

Cantus returned to the Great Hall. It was filled with Fraggles. They all looked at him with pleading eyes. He answered their unspoken question: "What is done may yet be undone, and what is yet undone may be done," and walked over to the modified Fraggle Horn to wait.

* * *

They did not have to wait long. Soon Cantus ran into the great hall holding a small, colorful thing in his hands and shouting, "Cantus! I finally got it all-" He stopped, startled, when he saw that the hall was full of Fraggles, all looking expectantly at him.

Cantus saw the alien object in Gobo's hands. He had done it! Cantus said, "We've been waiting for you. _The Song of Songs_ is about to begin."

"But…well…I mean…well, how did you know?"

Murray quipped, "He's not wise for nothin', you know?"

Cantus told Gobo, "And now it is time to honk The Honk of Honks."

Gobo hurried over to the Fraggle Horn and attached the party squeaker Doc had given him to the Fraggle Horn. He said, "Ready?"

Cantus answered, "Ready!"

Gobo drew in a breath, then blew as hard as he could. The chord made by the horn composed of artifacts from the Trash Heap, Fraggles, Doozers, Gorgs, and Outer Space vibrated through the rock. Mighty waves of sound reached outward, to the Doozers' building site, into the Gorgs' garden, and even as far as Doc's workshop, linking them all with music.

* * *

Fraggle Rock, _The Honk of Honks_ (heavily excerpted here), and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	26. Chapter 26

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 26  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

The Minstrels had been traveling north for some time. They had started soon after the thaw, and now…well, it was hard to tell what time of year it was. It seemed like it should have been warmer. The farther north they journeyed, the cooler the overall climate became. That was why they had started out when they did. They wanted to arrive during the warmest part of the year.

When the Minstrels reached an underground river, Cantus and Murray stopped and stared, puzzling the other Minstrels. Brio asked, "What's wrong?"

Murray said, "There's a bridge."

Cantus asked, "Who built it?"

Murray tested it with his foot, as if to assure himself that it was real. The wood creaked slightly but held firm. He said, "Either or. Maybe both."

"Both would have to agree to it," Cantus said.

Murray nodded. He told Brool, Brio, and Balsam, "This river is kind of a dividing line between territories. Before, any bridge over it was temporary, little more than a sturdy board, and it was always taken away when it wasn't being used. This one's built to last. Looks like things have changed since we left."

Instead of crossing the bridge, they turned east and entered another tunnel. When they could hear voices in the distance Cantus took the Magic Pipe out of the bindings of his backpack. The others took their cue, except for Murray, who already had his guitar in hand. Cantus stopped and gestured Murray forward. They looked at each other for a moment, then Murray nodded and took the lead, playing his guitar. Cantus followed, playing softly on the pipe.

They entered a long gallery. More lanky, green-furred creatures like Murray had been drawn by the music. They looked at them in amazement—but not alarm or hostility. Things _had_ changed. Cantus remembered the way they had eyed him at first, so long ago. _Warlike Fraggle, beware of it!_ But the children hadn't known any better, and had listened to his music, and stopped being afraid. And by now they were grown up and had children of their own.

When they finished Murray spoke. None of the others could understand what he said; it was another language, full of vowel sounds and hums. The other creatures there were momentarily startled. Then they started grinning. One snickered.

Puzzled, Murray said, _"What's so funny?"_

Another Pisca answered, _"Your accent. You talk like a Fraggle."_

Murray shrugged. _"Oh, yeah. Well, that happens when you travel with a Fraggle for half a lifetime."_ He gestured at the rest of the troupe. _"We are The Minstrels. We travel throughout the Rock, playing our music for all."_

"M'rray?" another Pisca asked.

He looked at her. She looked different, but he knew the voice. Edrra. He said, _"Yes. It's been a while."_

_"I did not think you would still be alive."_

_"Well, I am."_

She looked uneasy. He could guess why. The obvious subject made him uncomfortable too, so he changed it. _"The bridge. Who built it?"_

Cantus, guessing that Murray would be a while, started playing his pipe softly. The others joined in, giving the other Pisca something to listen to.

She answered, _"We and the Fraggles did. We trade things."_

_"That's great."_

_"M'rray, have you returned?"_

She didn't have to say that as if it would be a calamity, did she? _"No. I'm only visiting. My home is with The Minstrels. We travel."_ He glanced over at the Minstrels.

_"You have no real home? Or family?"_

She looked as if she pitied him! He said, _"Where they are, that's my home. They are my family. _Cantus_ is my brother-found."_

She shook her head. _"A Fraggle? I don't understand, M'rray."_

_"You never did. That makes both of us."_ He said wryly_. "Smile. Listen to the music. Forget the past. I have."_

_"That's the wisest thing you've ever said."_

Some things don't change. He said_, "You have a mate now?"_

_"Yes. And children."_

_"Then why worry about me?"_ He walked back to the Minstrels and joined their tune.

* * *

After they finished Murray said in a low voice to Cantus, "How about we move on."

"So soon?"

"Yeah."

Something was bothering Murray. Cantus nodded.

* * *

In the twisty tunnel leading to the river, Cantus asked, "Who was the one who mispronounced your name?"

"She wasn't mispronouncing it. That's my name. M'rray."

Surprised, Cantus said, "Mray?"

"No. M'rray."

"All this time I've been mispronouncing it? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Heh. You say it with a Fraggle accent, that's all."

Cantus tried again. "Mrray."

"No, no. That sounds weird coming from you. I'm used to Murray, so let's stick with that, okay?"

"All right." A person had the right to decide what they would be called, Cantus told himself. Still, he was not happy to learn that he had been mispronouncing his closest friend's name all along.

"Anyway, they built the bridge together, and they trade now."

"That's wonderful."

"It certainly is a change."

"Why did you want to leave so soon?"

Murray stopped walking and sighed. He could just tell Cantus that it was none of his business, and the Fraggle would accept that and move on. But he really didn't want to keep secrets. "She was someone in my life."

Cantus looked at him, puzzled. He had never mentioned her before.

Murray went on, "All right, she was my mate, long ago. All Pisca are supposed to be paired off, that's just the way it is. She and I, well, it wasn't the best match. We didn't hate it, but, well, there just wasn't anything there. We probably would have been good friends if we'd been just friends. When I left it was a relief for both of us. Oh, don't look at me like that, it's not like we had children."

"You left your mate to travel with me?" Cantus said in disbelief.

"Yep. And I don't regret a minute of it," Murray said firmly. "And it freed her up to find someone else and get on with her life, so it was best for everybody."

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Cantus said, "Crazy Pisca."

Murray smiled. "Yeah. Let's move on."

* * *

When they got close to the Fraggle colony Cantus paused. A familiar scent led him to a cluster of pointy-capped, spongelike mushrooms. He picked one and, looking at it closely, said, "I haven't seen one of these since we went south." He bit in. It tasted as good as he remembered, and brought back surprisingly vivid memories.

The other Minstrels looked at the mushrooms. Brio and Balsam each picked one and sampled it. They found the taste pleasant enough. Brool didn't bother; the scent didn't appeal to him. Murray had tried these once, long ago, and knew he didn't like them.

* * *

The Minstrels made their way to the Fraggle Colony. Cantus closed his eyes as he walked, playing the Magic Pipe. Music and memories guided him back to the place where he was born.

The acoustics changed. Now they were in an open cavern. He could hear the echoes of the music off distant stone walls, and the soft sounds made by many attentive Fraggles. He opened his eyes and saw the Deep Gallery, exactly the same as it had been when he grew up here, the same as it had been for millions of days and would be for millions of days to come. He lowered his pipe and began to sing,  
"Music grows in the rose,  
Rock and rain and the blowin' snowstorm.  
Everything seems to sing  
Everywhere I go..."

Murray could hear the passion in Cantus's voice. He really was keyed up. Well, no wonder, he thought, and sang along with him.

When they finished the song Cantus raised a hand, palm outward, in salute and said, "Hail, Fraggles. We are the Minstrels. We travel throughout the Rock, bringing together its peoples with music. We have traveled to the south, to the east, and to the west, and now we are here in the north."

"What are you?"

The question was asked not out of suspicion, but in honest curiosity. "I am Cantus, and I was born in this colony. This is Murray, who came from the Pisca colony on the other side of the bridge. From the south come Brool, who is of the Ainu; Balsam, of the Thrumb; and Brio, a southern Fraggle. Though we come from different peoples, we sing our songs together."

"Can we sing with you?" asked a young, eager Fraggle.

"Absolutely. All of you are invited to join in the music, because the music belongs to all of us!"

* * *

They played and sang for some time. It was a little like a Fraggle Medley; the Minstrels provided the idea of the song, and the colony's Fraggles built on it and made it their own. Stone soup music, Murray called it. It went on for a long time, and wound down only because the participants had sung themselves out for the time being and wanted rest and food.

A Fraggle came up and spoke slowly and deliberately to Murray. It sounded like gibberish to Cantus. Murray's eyes widened. He replied.

Though Cantus had no idea what they were saying, he understood now. This Fraggle had learned to speak Pisca—or was still learning, from the careful way he spoke—and wanted to show off his skill. Cantus smiled. The bridge was not only over the river. The bridge was in people's minds as well.

"Jago?"

An old Fraggle, his fur and hair pale with age, came up to the Minstrels. He sat on a boulder and looked at Cantus. "Jago, is that you?"

Cantus had not recognized him until he spoke. "Tunesmith?"

The old Fraggle waved a hand. "No longer. Cheel is now the Tunesmith. I've taken back my name. Shonky. Call me that."

"I'm happy to see you again," Cantus said warmly.

Shonky smiled and nodded. He said, "You did it, didn't you? I never really understood what you were trying to do, but it looks like this is it."

Cantus sat beside him. "We are all part of the world. Our differences are not as important as our similarities. Music is our common ground, and that is why we travel throughout the Rock."

Shonky studied him, then said, "It makes no sense to me, but not much does these days. If that is your calling and you're happy, then I'm glad."

Gently Cantus said, "I want to leave the world a better place than I found it. If our music can bring people together, I will have succeeded."

Shonky nodded "You…you took a new name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I don't remember it."

Cantus was unoffended. It was normally an insult to call someone by a childhood name rather than their chosen name, but he could not blame Shonky for being forgetful. "Yes. My name is Cantus."

"Cantus. Cantus," the old Fraggle repeated, trying to commit it to memory. "Where do you live now?"

"We travel the rock."

"Don't you have a home? A colony, a family?"

Cantus smiled. This was the one point that most people found hardest to believe. "The Rock is our home, and we Minstrels are a family. The colonies we visit welcome us."

"Still, it's a shame, never even having children."

Cantus chuckled. "I have sired fifteen children in twelve colonies. Two of them have children of their own."

That startled Shonky. "_Fifteen_ children? And I thought music was the only thing on your mind."

Cantus heard a stifled laugh from Murray. Calmly he said, "It is an honor I have been given many times."

Shonky shook his head. "I don't know when you found time for music. You certainly will have made the world a better _populated _place than you found it."

Cantus merely nodded. There was no malice behind Shonky's remarks. Shonky started to say something, then looked curiously at Cantus. "Jago…I was going to say something…" He shook his head. "My memory is bad. I can remember things that happened when I was young, but not what I'm talking about." He laughed apologetically. "That's what happens when you live a long time."

"At least you still have your flute."

"No," Shonky said, shaking his head. "I retired many, many days ago."

Cantus was shocked wordless for a moment. He said, "You were the Tunesmith!"

Gently Shonky said, "That was my _job_. When it came time for me to retire, I was glad to put down my flute. Not everybody lives and breathes music, Jago."

Cantus felt a tightness in his chest. How could the Tunesmith have given up on music? He had shaped Cantus's skills, challenged and frustrated him back when that was what he had needed to set him on his path. Cantus could not imagine wanting to live without singing and playing music. Music was life itself!

But, he told himself, that was not true for everyone. Even his old master could tire of making music. Cantus must accept that. He said, "I would like to play for you, Tunesmith."

"I'm retired. Cheel is the Tunesmith now," Shonky told him.

"You were my Tunesmith. If you will call me Jago, I will call you that."

"You took a new name…" He searched his memory.

"May I play for you?"

"Yes. I like to listen, at least."

Cantus sat on the stone floor in front of Shonky, legs crossed, like a student in front of his teacher. He raised the Magic Pipe and began to play.

Murray looked over. He recognized that tune, though he had only heard it once, over half a lifetime ago. The other Minstrels, assuming this to be a cue, laid hands on their instruments, but Murray held out a hand, stopping them. This was a private moment between Cantus and his erstwhile mentor.

Shonky closed his eyes and listened to the pleasant tune. When Cantus finished Shonky said, "You play beautifully."

"Do you remember that song?" Cantus asked.

"My memory is bad. I'm sorry. I may have heard it before, but I don't know where."

"When I first brought Murray to visit this colony, Fraggles weren't friendly with Pisca. When we came in, we played this tune, Murray on his guitar and me on my pipe. People stared at us, not sure what to do about the outsider I had brought into our home. Then you came over and, on your flute, joined with us. If you hadn't done that, things might have turned out very differently. I am grateful."

Shonky paused a long time. Then he whispered. "I wish I could remember that. I'm glad that it happened."

Cantus said, "You taught me everything you could, and you trusted and supported me even when you didn't understand. You did not have the answers I was looking for, and because of that, I went out and found my own answers. That was not what I wanted, but it was what I needed. Thank you."

Murray came over. He said, "Thanks from me too. I remember the day you played with us too."

Shonky smiled. "You're welcome, both of you. Jago, you said you both played it. Would you both play it now?"

"Of course," Cantus answered.

Murray sat beside Cantus, guitar in his lap. "Sure thing."

Shonky closed his eyes and listened. He still could not recall that day, he thought he could hear a flute in the distance of time.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Edrra and Shonky are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Edrra, Shonky, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	27. Chapter 27

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 27  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

"Hey! The Minstrels are here!"

A Fraggle in a side tunnel heard music, led by the unmistakable double voice of Cantus's Magic Pipe, and ran into the Great Hall to tell everyone. Word quickly spread outward from there, Fraggle to Fraggle, so that when the Minstrels reached the Great Hall an eager audience was there to greet them.

Cantus could not smile while playing the pipe, but he was pleased. The colonies they visited always welcomed them warmly. They accepted The Minstrels' gift of music and gave their own music in return. The liveliest colonies learned something from it. But whether the Minstrels were providing subtle guidance or just making pretty music for others to enjoy, it was all worth it. No song is wasted if there are ears to hear.

The Minstrels had started out with no agenda for this visit. There was no specific event that they were here to lend their music to. The Trash Heap had advised them that things had been running smoothly. Then Cantus had gotten a notion, and had gone right up to Junior Gorg in the garden. Even though the Fraggles and Gorgs had ceased to be enemies many, many days ago, old habits die hard. Fraggles still remembered being chased and thumped, and Gorgs still thought of Fraggles as creatures that infested their garden. Except for the bravest Fraggles, those too young to remember the bad old days, and Junior Gorg, who was happy to have friends of any kind.

When Murray had heard what Cantus had in mind, he had moaned and covered his eyes. Cantus was insane. But then, he'd always been that way, and they followed him because he was the right kind of crazy. His silly ideas had a way of changing things for the better.

Now the Minstrels walked to the center of the Great Hall. Cantus raised a hand and called, "Hark, Fraggles!"

"Hark, Cantus," they chorused back.

"Do you have a new song for us?" a young purple Fraggle asked excitedly.

"Indeed I do! But the song is not here."

"Where is it, then?"

"We will lead you to it. Prepare yourselves."

* * *

The Minstrels waited as Fraggles bustled noisily about. Some tuned their instruments, others sang scales and did other vocal warmups. For Fraggles, music was participatory. When Cantus judged they were ready he raised his pipe and played the opening notes of his familiar processional. The Fraggles, in the mood for music, joined in, and played along with the Minstrels as they walked.

Cantus led them up to the exit to the Gorgs' garden. At that point some of the Fraggles balked. That did not worry Cantus; he did not expect everyone to follow him all the way. Some would, and that would be enough. The others would listen from the safety of Fraggle Rock.

Cantus led the Fraggles into the yard by the garden. Junior was there, sitting on the ground, a big angular metal thing beside him. He stared, amazed, at all the Fraggles who dared to come out into the garden. He hadn't seen so many in one place since he got tiny and visited Fraggle Rock himself.

Cantus brought the tune to a close. He said, "Hail, Junior Gorg!"

Junior raised a hand, "Hail, Fwaggles! Wow, there's lots of you! Hold on, lemme get Ma and Pa!" He jumped up and ran into the castle. "Ma! Pa!"

The Fraggles waited while the Gorgs squabbled inside. Murray hoped that this would go off as well as Cantus expected it to. Failure would be disastrous for Cantus's image as a sage and, oh yeah, for everybody's health too. But he gave no hint as to his misgivings. He'd support Cantus no matter what, and it was vital that everybody share Cantus's confidence.

After a minute Junior returned to the garden. "C'mon, you gotta see this!"

Ma and Pa came out. Pa growled, "Why should I want to see Fraggles in the garden?"

Ma said, "Now, dear, let's see what Junior wants to show us."

"Look here!" Junior gestured grandly.

Their eyes widened when they saw the colorful crowd of Fraggles in their midst. In the moment before anyone could panic Cantus stepped forward, arms spread to make himself as visible as possible to the giant Gorgs, and said, "Hail, Gorgs! We have come to play music for you."

That dumbfounded them. Ma said, "You _have?"_

In the group, Red said, "We _have?"_

Wembley stepped forward, surprising even Cantus. He called to Ma, "Do you remember me? I sang for my supper a long time ago. You played the harp."

Ma peered down at him. "Why, yes, I _do_ remember you. It wasn't that long ago," she said.

"You liked my singing then. And, well, we'd like to thank you for sharing your garden with us," he said earnestly.

Ma paused, thoughtfully, then turned to Pa. "Pa, get my harp."

Cantus looked at Wembley and smiled. Wembley grinned back. Pa grumbled, but he knew when he was outnumbered. Not by the Fraggles, or even Junior and Ma. When her mind was made up, Ma outnumbered him all by herself. He went into the castle and came back with a harp, which he handed to her. She said, "Thank you, duckie-kins."

"Anything for you, my little garlic blossom."

Junior rolled his eyes. Behind a hand he stage whispered, "C'mon, don't get all mushy in front of the Fwaggles!"

Pa said, "Considerin' how many of 'em there are, I bet they know a little about 'mush'."

_"Pa!"_

Ma sat down at the garden table. She stretched out one leg like a pink, furred tree trunk and set the harp on it. Cantus raised his pipe and began to play.

The Fraggles listened. It was a Fraggle tune, but played differently somehow. Ma nodded, listening, then began playing the harp.

It was a rippling, surprisingly sweet sound, one that few Fraggles had ever heard before. Who would have thought that those monstrous hands could coax music out of anything?

This was not going the way Cantus had planned. He had intended for the Fraggles to play music for the Gorgs, and for Junior to join in if the spirit moved him, which seemed likely. But Cantus had not known that Wembley had already sung for them once—of course, if anyone would, it would be Wembley—and now the very Gorg who had once attacked the Minstrels with a broom was playing music with them. It was wonderful.

Now that the music was underway, it felt natural for Gobo to join in on his guitar. What else had he brought it for, after all? And Wembley sat down with his bongos in his lap and added a rhythm line. Soon the other Fraggles were playing their instruments or singing.

Junior watched with no less wonder than Cantus. It was as if it had slipped Ma's mind how awful she always thought Fraggles were. Even Pa, sitting at the other side of the picnic table, his head in one hand, had forgotten to scowl. Was the Fraggle with the pipe magical? Or was the music magical? Whatever it was, they could use more of it!

After that tune was over, Red spoke up. "I bet I know a song you'd like."

"Weally? What song?" Junior asked.

Red began, "Give me one and give me two-"

Junior laughed and sang the next line with her. "Cover me with muck and goo!"

Ma and Pa, and all among the Fraggles but Gobo and Boober, were astounded. The Fraggles knew a Gorg children's song? The Gorgs knew a Fraggle counting song? The song evoked happy memories, of playing and singing with those you loved. Soon everyone was singing it, even Ma and Pa.

* * *

They went on to sing other songs. Cantus had to do very little to keep the musical conversation going; the Fraggles and the Gorgs already knew what to do. They only needed someone to set it in motion, to play the opening notes of the tune. He was proud of them all.

Afterward, as the Minstrels settled down in their little camp for the night, Murray said, "I don't know how you do it, boss. You do it over and over again, but heck if I can figure out how."

Cantus smiled. "I did very little. I simply offered an opportunity, and they chose to take it."

"Yeah, yeah." As if anyone could do that. The difference was, Murray thought, Cantus could see the possibilities and judge the right time. Anyone else would be taking their chances.

Cantus lay down in his half tent. He was tired, and a little sore. Which was typical these days. He felt no discomfort when playing music, but when he went to bed at night after a busy day he could feel his joints complaining. He accepted that as a minor distraction, and did not dwell on it.

Before he dropped off he thought, if he eventually gave up wandering and settled in any colony, it would be this one. Though he had no offspring here, he still felt the greatest kinship with these Fraggles.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all named characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	28. Chapter 28

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 28  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a late morning after a long night. The Fraggles had held their Moon Greeting ceremony to celebrate the monthly appearance of the Fraggle Moon. The Minstrels had taken part in the ceremony before, but this time the Fraggle who had been named as this month's Moon Greeter had offered the role to Cantus. Cantus had, of course, accepted. It was short notice, but Cantus was at home with ceremonies, and welcomed the moon with a song that, by the end, drew everyone in. After all, it was everybody's moon, so it was only fitting that all should sing to it.

Now he was feeling the aftermath of the night's activity. He moved a little stiffly, though otherwise he betrayed no sign of discomfort. He did not worry about everyday aches; they would pass.

Some Fraggles came to their camp, carrying fruit, quickbread, vegetables, and juice for the Minstrels' breakfast. Cantus thanked them. Boober asked Cantus, "Would you like some red tea?"

"That would be welcome."

Boober offered an earthenware cup. The tea inside was dark red, and smelled of honey and cinnamon. It was not too hot, so it could be drunk quickly. Which it often was, as it was made from drooptree bark, which mitigated pain. Boober kept a supply of it on hand at all times for headaches and minor injuries. He made a mental note to prepare a packet of the shredded bark to give to Cantus for use on his travels.

Cantus drank the tea. The honey and cinnamon masked a bitter taste. Cantus paid that no more attention than he did to his stiffness. They were simple facts of life.

* * *

Later that day Cantus was wandering about, quietly watching and listening. He had left the Magic Pipe in their camp. The other Minstrels were off doing whatever they felt like doing. Last he saw, Brio was swimming in the Great Hall. Murray would likely be fishing somewhere.

There were Fraggles here he had seen grow up, like the children that had been born to the tight-knit group of Gobo, Wembley, Red, Mokey, and Boober. He had been visiting this colony since before their oldest, Janken, was born. Now he and his younger sister Sage were adults, and the youngest, Poncle, was heading there as fast as she could. Children grew up so very quickly, he thought, especially when you did not see them for many, many days at a time. You remember them as they were, and when you come back they had grown and changed. He could remember every one of the children he had sired as infants; now many had children of their own.

He strolled into the Great Hall. Fraggles were playing and running around and generally having a good time. Balsam and Reed were playing music with a few Fraggles, improvising a meandering, jazzy tune. They glanced over and saw him. He smiled and nodded.

Gobo and Janken, wearing backpacks, entered through a nearby tunnel. Janken said, "Oh, hi, Cantus!"

"Hark," Cantus said. "What brings the day?"

Earlier a question like this would have puzzled them. What brought the day? The day came by itself. By now, however, they understood his way of speaking. Gobo said, "We've been out in the Winding Rill caverns. There was a flood there, so we went to update our maps."

"And we found some of these." Janken worked his arms out of his backpack's straps, set it down on the cave floor, and opened it up. He took out a milky, pinkish gray stone that was so polished it still looked wet. "Here, I want you to have the first one."

The palm-sized, flat stone was smooth and cool in Cantus's hand. He said, "Thank you."

Gobo said, "And we're gonna go see Doc. He likes it when we bring him rocks like this." He showed Cantus a stone that looked like a strange, segmented bug was stuck in it.

"Hey, why don't you come with us?" Janken asked.

Cantus looked at him, surprised. Janken said, "Doc is the Silly Creature who lives just outside Fraggle Rock. Gobo used to sneak into his workroom to get the postcards that his Uncle Matt sent. When I got stuck in Outer Space, Doc helped me tell my family what happened so they wouldn't worry."

Gobo, seeing a hint of interest in Cantus's eyes, said, "Remember when you told me to touch the Silly Creature and let him touch me? That was Doc. He gave me the swoopfoomer for The Honk of Honks. We've been friends ever since."

Cantus's hesitated for a moment. Outer Space was for explorers like Gobo and Janken; Cantus's place was within the rock—no. That was just nerves speaking. Cantus had explored far and wide, and had met many different kinds of people. He had even sung with Gorgs. He said, "I will come."

Janken's eyes widened. "Really? Awesome!"

Gobo said, "We just need to put our backpacks up."

"I will meet you at the entrance to Outer Space," Cantus told them.

Gobo and Janken went to Gobo's room. Cantus returned to his camp and picked up the Magic Pipe. _We've traveled far, and we shall travel farther,_ he thought. Sometimes he thought of the Magic Pipe as a living thing. It often felt as if Cantus was collaborating with it rather than simply using it as a tool to make music. It was undeniably magical; who could say that it was not alive in some way?

Cantus thought as he walked up the passage to Outer Space, the other Minstrels would not be pleased that he had gone to Outer Space by himself. He imagined Murray calling him selfish for keeping the adventure to himself. Such words masked their concern for him. A concern that, he admitted, was not always unfounded. Sometimes he needed their practicality. However, he was confident that this would be safe. As he looked around the beautiful tunnel, alive with plants and blooming flowers, he could feel that it was as magical as his pipe. How could this tunnel have opened if not to lead to something good?

Janken and Gobo were already there. Gobo said, "Janken and I'll go in first, to make sure that Doc's home."

Janken said, "Doc lives with a dog, Sprocket. He looks like a big, hairy, scary monster, but he's safe. He's never hurt any of us, and he sometimes comes down to Fraggle Rock to play. If he runs at you, making a sound like this—" Janken imitated a dog barking— "don't be afraid. He just gets excited when people visit."

Gobo, standing at the tunnel's exit, beckoned. "C'mon, Jan."

"Yeah. We'll just be a minute!" Janken said. He and Gobo went through the tunnel.

* * *

Janken and Gobo looked out into Doc's home. Janken called, "Doc? You here?"

Sprocket, who had been napping in his basket, raised his head. He barked, then said, "Ro-ro!"

Gobo laughed. "Yeah, it's me. Is Doc home? There's someone we'd like him to meet."

Sprocket arfed an affirmative, then jumped out of his basket and scampered down a short hallway on the other side of the work table. The Fraggles did not have to wait long; Doc could tell by Sprocket's vocal, tail-wagging excitement that Fraggles were here. Doc smiled when he saw his two most frequent visitors. He lowered himself with a little effort onto a pillow on the floor—it was easier to talk to Fraggles at eye level—and said, "Hello, Gobo, Janken. How are you?"

Sprocket noticed a scent he did not recognize, and went over to the hole in the wall. He stuck his head in and sniffed curiously, then barked a greeting.

Janken hopped up. "Sprocket! Don't do that. He's never met you before. You might scare him."

Sprocket pulled his head out and made an interrogatory sound at Janken. Janken scratched him behind the ears with both hands—Sprocket loved that—and said, "I know, you're not really scary. I just don't want any misunderstandings."

Gobo held up a stone. "I found this in the caves. It was washed up on a rock pile after a flood. I thought you'd like it."

Doc took the fossil. "This is amazing! A perfect record of prehistoric life! Thank you, Gobo."

"You're welcome. Say, remember when we first met? You were upset about your friend moving away, and I felt bad for you. I touched your hand, and then you were able to see me."

"I remember that very well," Doc replied softly.

"Well, I did it because Cantus the Minstrel told me to. He said that we had to touch each other so you could see me. I think that he meant that we had to become real to each other."

"I think that's right."

Janken chimed in, "And it's because of him I live in Outer Space. He invited me to travel with his Minstrels so I could see other people in the Rock. Then I got trapped on the outside by a rockslide, and the rest is history. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be in the Rock, wondering what to do with my life!"

* * *

Cantus waited as they talked about him. It was good to see that they had truly understood his lessons from many, many, many days ago. However, when they started talking about his wisdom, as if to impress Doc, he raised his pipe. The proper way to introduce a Minstrel was not with words.

At the sound of the music Gobo and Janken both looked back at the hole. Janken grinned sheepishly. _Shut up and let me make my own entrance!_

As Doc watched, a Fraggle he had never seen before walked out of the hole, playing what looked like two pipes, one wrapped like a vine around the other. He was taller than most Fraggles by about six inches, and he was furry all over and wore a robe. His fur was orange, shading to yellow on his hands and snout. Comical tufts of magenta hair framed his face. His snout was long and narrow, giving him an almost birdlike appearance. And, Doc realized, he had lines around his eyes and deep creases on his cheeks. Despite his bright coloration, this Fraggle was old. He knew that older Fraggles existed, but this was the first one he had seen besides Traveling Matt. It was somehow comforting in its ordinariness.

The music of the pipe sounded at first like a pair of oboes playing from the same sheet of music. Then the Fraggle began playing them in harmony. When the tune began to slow, one sang the melody and the other played a drone.

When Cantus finished, he raised a hand and said, "Hail, Silly Creature. I am Cantus the Minstrel."

Doc, smiling, raised his hand as Cantus had and said, "Welcome, Cantus. I'm Doc Crystal. I've heard so much about you."

"So I heard."

Sprocket had restrained his curiosity for long enough. He remembered not to run or bark because that scared Fraggles. So, tail wagging, he trotted up to Cantus and began sniffing him.

Cantus was surprised, but only for a moment. He did the only thing he could, which was to stand still and let Sprocket carry out his inspection. When the dog was satisfied he gave Cantus a friendly lick that covered half his face.

Janken covered his mouth, trying to hide his laughter at Cantus's startled expression. Gobo said, "Sorry, I should have warned you, that's how Sprocket tells you he likes you."

"I see. You'll forgive me if I don't return the favor."

"This is what he likes." Janken got up and started scratching the back of Sprocket's head. The dog leaned into his hands, his tail thumping the ground happily.

Doc grinned as Cantus, on the other side, scratched Sprocket's head, his fingers sinking knuckle deep into gray fur. Sprocket looked beside himself with pleasure. His tail was wagging hard enough to take his hindquarters along with it.

Doc said, "Cantus. Singing. What an appropriate name for a minstrel."

"My name has meaning in your language?" Cantus asked, still scratching Sprocket.

"Well, actually, it's Latin I'm thinking of. That's an ancient Silly Creature language."

And yet the word had the same meaning. Very interesting, possibly important. He would think more about that later. He said, "I would like to hear your music."

Doc said, "Well, I don't play anything myself. I tried the saxophone once. Didn't get very far." Sprocket shuddered with a sound of dismay. "I don't even sing in the shower because it makes Sprocket howl. We aren't as musical as Fraggles are."

"Is there no music at all in your life?" Cantus asked.

"Well, no, I like _listening_ to music." He got up and went to a shelf where many flat things were stacked on their ends. He took one out. It was a very thin, square box. He took a black, round thing out of it. "This is a record. We store music on these, and put them in a machine to play them."

"Like the roller in a music box," Cantus mused.

Doc paused thoughtfully. "Well, yes. Much like that, actually."

"I would like to hear this."

"All right. Hmm—" he looked through the records, wondering what a Fraggle musician would want to hear. Fraggles seemed to like all kinds of music. He picked one out—an album of big band music—and decided that that would be as good as anything, plus he wouldn't mind listening to it either. He slipped the record out of its sleeve, lifted the cover of his record player, and put the disc on the turntable.

Cantus watched as he positioned the disc, which began spinning, then carefully set something that looked like a lever on top of it. He heard a click and a soft hiss. Then music came from different sides of the room. After a glance he saw that the sources of the sound were a pair of black boxes with fabric on the front.

That was only of momentary interest. The music that came from it was…well, it was like many things he had heard before. He could recognize wind instruments, including some that sounded much like the Magic Pipe, but others had bright, brassy voices. They were put together in a way that interested and puzzled him. The melody itself, on the other hand, needed no thought or explanation. It was music, a language he understood.

* * *

Cantus listened to the music, his eyes closed, the tip of his tail tapping in time. It was a strange sight for Gobo and Janken. For them, Cantus was the one who sang and played music. They had never seen him sit quietly and…"Listen," Janken thought, and grinned. Cantus practiced what he preached.

When that side of the disc was through Doc lifted the needle off. Cantus raised his pipe and began to play. The tune was in the style of the music they had just heard, although the melody was Cantus's own. Doc, Sprocket, Gobo, and Janken smiled, not only because they liked the music, but because Cantus was enjoying himself too. In particular, Gobo and Janken were used to seeing Cantus play magnificent, thrilling music; they had never before seen him toy with it, just pick up an instrument and mess around the way any Fraggle with an idle moment would. Of course, this being Cantus, even his musical doodling sounded wonderful.

When Cantus finished he said to Doc, "Thank you. I wish the rest of the Minstrels could have heard that."

Doc answered, "If they come up here, I'll be happy to play it for them. It's been a long time since I've had anyone to listen to these with me." Sprocket barked indignantly. "All right, almost anyone."

Cantus considered. "Perhaps they will come."

He raised the pipe again and began playing a Fraggle-style rendition of _In the Mood_.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken and Reed are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Reed, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	29. Chapter 29

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 29  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

It was a cool day at the beginning of spring. Winter had been harsh, as winter always was. The caves grew so cold that the rock below chilled you through the soles of your feet if you didn't wear thick socks and keep them dry. Water froze, so you either went thirsty or ate ice, which was hardly less dangerous. Most beings had the sense to stay home and keep warm among their fellows.

Not Cantus, however. Murray had tried to talk him out of traveling to Fraggle Rock for the Festival of the Bells. He'd led the celebration every year for decades, Murray had said; they had to have gotten the hang of it by now. Cantus had not argued the matter. He had simply gone. When Murray found he was missing, he had chased after him. It hadn't taken long for him to catch up. Cantus had been moving more slowly of late.

To be fair, Murray understood why Cantus had been so determined to be at the Fesival of the Bells. Cantus was very fond of this colony. They were the ones who had taken his lessons to heart, reaching out beyond themselves with music, and even without it. They loved him both for his music and his wisdom, and he had confided to Murray that of all the colonies he had visited, he felt most at home here. These Fraggles could find joy in anything, even at the most miserably cold time of the year. Even so, Murray wished he had been able to talk Cantus out of making this trip.

They had both had stayed in Fraggle Rock until spring. Cantus had not given them a reason he was staying much longer than usual, and the Fraggles, excited to have him around for an extended visit, had not asked. But even they must have realized that something was not right. Cantus was old, and the long journey through the frigid tunnels had sapped his strength.

Now it was time to move on. The Fraggles had bid him farewell with a raucous party. They left, Cantus playing his Magic Pipe and Murray strumming his guitar as they walked away.

A few minutes later, Cantus stopped playing and threaded the pipe into his backpack.

* * *

They walked quietly until early evening, when they reached a stopping point. It was not one of their usual campgrounds; they had not made it that far. Cantus took off his pack and sank to the ground with a soft sigh of relief.

Murray took off his pack, which now included Cantus' bedroll, the heaviest part of Cantus' gear. He hoped that lightening the load had helped a little. As he built a campfire Cantus sat still, leaning back against a mossy boulder, gazing at the stream that flowed through the center of the cave. Murray took some food out of his pack—bread baked by the Fraggles they had just left, and one of those radishes that Fraggles were so nuts about—and offered Cantus a portion. Cantus glanced at them and shook his head slightly. Murray shrugged and put them down within reach. "What're you thinking?" he asked.

Cantus spoke for the first time since they had left the rock. "I'm not thinking. I'm listening. Listening to the sound of the water. To the joyous splash as it first rushes down the waterfall, and the softer gurgles as it slows and flows in its channel, and its final silence as it disappears into the darkness."

Murray said softly, "Sounds to me like you're thinking."

"I wonder where the water goes."

They both knew the answer to that. Water circulated through the rock, flowing downward through channels and cracks, soaking through soil and stone, disappearing into the air to rise and condense elsewhere to begin the cycle anew. But Murray knew a philosophical question when he heard one, and had no answer.

Cantus smiled. "When did you get so much younger than me?" he asked softly.

Startled, Murray said, "Don't talk like that, boss."

"Pisca must live longer than Fraggles. That's good." He closed his eyes and said softly, "I'm tired."

"I'll set up your tent."

"I want to listen a while longer." He reached over to his pack, took out the Magic Pipe, and held it out to Murray. It trembled in the air, though Cantus' expression was calm.

Murray took the Pipe. He was raising it to play it when Cantus held up his hand. A zigzag glowed softly in his palm. "Touch your hand to mine."

Puzzled, Murray touched Cantus's hand. Cantus gripped it for a moment, pressing their palms together. Then he let go. The mark had disappeared. Murray glanced at his own hand. The zigzag shone back at him.

Murray looked at Cantus, shocked. Calmly Cantus told him, "The Magic Pipe is yours. Let it be your voice as it has been mine."

Murray's eyes widened. Cantus was making him the leader of the Minstrels! Yes, he was getting too old to journey, but making music without him was still unthinkable. He said, "I'll never be half the Minstrel you are, Cantus."

"Then be all the Minstrel _you_ are."

Murray held the pipe out to him. "Cantus, this is yours. I don't want it."

Cantus made no move to take it. He said, "My time grows short. Do you really want to spend it arguing?"

"I'll go back to Fraggle Rock and get someone. We can bring you back-"

"So I can die there and make them grieve? No. I don't know if I would even be alive by the time you returned. I do not want my last minutes to be spent alone in the caves, or among sorrowing Fraggles. I want to listen to something beautiful. And," he said, looking up at Murray with a smile, "I want to go where the water goes."

Murray paused, not knowing what to say. Of course Cantus was old, but he could not imagine him leaving the world. But...he was calm, and ready for it. What good would getting upset do? It's not like Cantus had a choice in the matter. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then said, barely keeping his voice from cracking, "My brother."

"My brother," Cantus replied warmly.

Murray didn't know what he could say to that, so he said nothing. Better not to talk than to fill the air with needless words. He raised the pipe and began to play.

Cantus closed his eyes to listen. Murray listened too, to the sound of the water that connected all life in the caves. He drew it into the music, and, with the magic of the pipe, wove it into a rich tapestry of sound. As he played, the flowers in the cave budded and bloomed. Cantus opened his eyes and, smiling, whispered "Beautiful" so softly that even he could not hear it over the music. Then he closed his eyes again.

As he listened to the music of the Magic Pipe, Cantus slipped into a dreamlike state. It seemed that the music became words, words that he could finally hear and understand. _Thank you._

"You're welcome. What did I do?"

_We are the voices of the pipe. We created it and gave it to you. We followed along, lending our magic and living through the music you created with our help._

Ah. Now he recognized the voice. It was the same one he had heard in the cave where the Magic Pipe had grown. "So, there _was_ something in the Magic Pipe. I wondered."

_There still is. We go where the pipe goes._

"Who are you?"

_We made music in life. We continue making music now._

"A haunted pipe. I never suspected." He chuckled. "Thank you. You made my life quite an adventure."

_You did that yourself. You took the instrument we created and went further than we had imagined._

He nodded, or would have if he could. He didn't feel as if he had a body to move. "I only wish I could see what happens next," he said.

_You can, if you wish to. Come with us._

"Haunt the pipe with you?"

_If you wish to._

Cantus considered. He had had a long life, and enjoyed all of it, thanks to his friends and the music they made together. And he could continue to share in it and contribute in some way.

Putting it that way, there was no question. "I will."

_Welcome!_

* * *

Murray played until the music reached its conclusion. He felt a little breathless. He was good, he knew, but the magic of the pipe drew things out of him that he had only suspected were there. Had it always been like this for Cantus? No wonder he hadn't wanted to retire the Magic Pipe. Looking around, he saw that he and Cantus were now surrounded by cave blossoms of every color. And Cantus' head had drooped forward.

Murray knelt and put down the pipe, then held a hand in front of Cantus's face. He could feel nothing. He pulled out a strand of his featherlike hair and held it up in front of Cantus's nose and mouth. Even the faintest breath would have caused it to tremble. It was still.

He paused, momentarily unable to think. He had spent nearly all of his life with Cantus. He loved him. How could he be gone? But he was. Cantus had been happy and unafraid at the end. He had died the way he wanted: at peace, listening to music. What better way to go?

He was trying to talk himself out of being distraught. It wasn't working.

What did Fraggles do with their dead? The Minstrels had never done their act at a Fraggle funeral. But, he realized, Cantus had said he wanted to go where the water went. As with many of the things that Cantus said, at the time it was puzzling, but on retrospect it made perfect sense.

He knew what he had to do. He wasn't ready, but that didn't matter. He was about to put his arms around Cantus to lift him when he noticed the pockets in his robe. They contained other instruments; panpipes and mouth-harps and other things that he would play at whim. Although it seemed fitting to send him on with some sort of instrument, he would not have wanted their voices to be silenced. Murray took them out of their pockets and put them into Cantus' pack.

Carefully he put his arms around Cantus as if to embrace him, and lifted. The Fraggle weighed less than Murray expected, and was thinner; the robe and his thick winter fur had hidden that. He carried him down to the bank, then waded in and lowered Cantus into the water. The cool water soaked into his fur, darkening it and plastering his featherlike hair to his head. Murray walked, the Fraggle floating before him in the gently-flowing water, down to the mouth of the passage that the stream flowed into, and forced himself to let Cantus go.

He watched the body disappear into the darkness. Then he waded back to the campsite. He looked at the pack, and the Magic Pipe, and the blooming flowers.

He sat down, lowered his head onto his knees, and wept.

* * *

When the Minstrels met to start their journey that year, he gave them the news. They were as shocked and upset as he had been, even though they had all known that Cantus' age had been catching up with him. When they heard Murray play the pipe and saw the mark that glowed on his palm, they accepted him as their new leader without question. And without question the Minstrels set out on their journey. Cantus was no longer leading them, but his mission—to unite all the tribes and colonies in the Rock with the universal language of music—was theirs, and they would carry on as long as they were needed.

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


	30. Chapter 30

**The Minstrel's Path  
****Part 30: The Outtake Reel  
**by Kim McFarland

* * *

**Chapter 1**

['Jago' wanders about in a cave. The breezes blowing through the various tunnelets leading in make a chord. He is communing with the music. Then he begins investigating the tunnelets. He sticks his head into one, then yelps and jerks back when a bat flies into his face.]

* * *

**Chapter 6**

[Setting: the underground river. M'rray approaches 'Jago'.]

M'rray: Ildurb fistenant imb?

Subtitle: Handbag teakettle barbeque?

* * *

**Chapter 10**

[Setting: A Fraggle colony in a rabbit-like warren carved out of soil. 'Cantus' and Murray are ready to play for the Fraggles there. 'Cantus' plays a lively introduction on Murray's guitar, then begins singing.

'Cantus': Please hear what I am singing now and hear my words, though strange and new

In the world outside your tunnels there are people strange but still like you.

We have traveled through the caverns, we have traversed many tunnels

Divided by wide rivers and connected by thin runnels-

[The words do not match his mouth movements.]

Offstage voice: Cut!

'Cantus': Aw, shoot!

Murray: Eh, it's a tough song. You'll get it. Eventually.

[Cantus, who was singing the lines from off-camera, steps into frame and speaks to his younger-looking double.]

Cantus: You're having trouble playing the guitar and remembering the words at the same time, aren't you, Tarin?

'Cantus': Yeah. Sorry, Dad.

Murray: I can play the guitar part…no, that wouldn't make any sense, because then I'd know what he was going to sing.

Cantus: [speaking to someone off-camera] Can you record the guitar music separately and add it in later?

Janken: [offstage] Yeah, no problem.

Cantus: [to Tarin] There. Pretend to play the guitar, and concentrate on the words. And remember—  
That particularly rapid, unintelligible patter  
Isn't generally heard, and if it is it doesn't matter.

'Cantus': [smiling] Okay.

[Cantus goes back offstage. Janken steps into frame with a clapper]

Janken: The Minstrel's Path, scene ten point three, take twelve. [snaps the clapper]

* * *

**Chapter 12**

[Setting: the Doozer colony's music box room. Cantus opens up a box. Instead of the usual music box tune, it plays…]

Music Box: Never gonna give you up,  
Never gonna let you down,  
Never gonna run around and desert you-

[Cantus, nonplussed, closes the box. Laughter is heard from off-camera.]

* * *

**Chapter 14**

[Murray and Cantus are looking at a mural carved into a cave wall. A spear flies in and hits Murray in the back of the knee.]

Murray: Ow! Medic!

Brool: [offstage] Sorry!

* * *

[Cantus, Brool, and Murray are sitting around a campfire. Several fish are roasting on sticks. Cantus takes one of the fish and, after looking it over, begins eating it. Murray and Brool stare. Cantus notices this when the fish is half eaten.]

Cantus: [innocently] Can't a Fraggle try something new?

Murray: [suspiciously] Let me see that.

[Cantus hands the fish-on-a-stick over. On close inspection, he can see that it's a taiyaki, a fish-shaped pastry. He rolls his eyes and gives it back.]

* * *

**Chapter 17**

[Cantus kneels in front of a small green girl Fraggle who shares his shagginess.]

Cantus: We may be gone for a long time, Clio-

Clio: How long?

Cantus: Many, many days.

Clio: You always go for many, many days.

Cantus: This time it may be many, many… [pauses dramatically, then takes a script page out of his pocket and glances at it] _many_ days.

[Clio giggles.]

* * *

**Chapter 23**

[Gobo rushes into the Great Hall. It is icy and silent. His friends are all frozen.]

Gobo: [dramatically] Boober! Mokey! Oh, oh, Red! I didn't mean to—oh, no! Wembley! Oh, poor Wembley!

[Behind him, Red begins to giggle. This sets off the other frozen Fraggles.]

Gobo: This is supposed to be drama, not comedy.

Red: Yeah, _you_ try keeping a straight face when someone's chewing the scenery to pieces.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

[Wembley, excited, speaks into Gobo's face at point-blank range.]

Wembley: Gobo, did you hear that? You, of all the Fraggles in the Rock, get to honk The Honk of Honks! Wow! Wow! _Wow!_

Gobo: [long pause] Wembley, that was really creepy.

* * *

**Chapter 28**

[Cantus is standing on a small footstool, playing Doc's saxophone, which is almost twice as big as he is. Despite the size differential, and the challenge posed by his hands and lungs being much smaller than the manufacturer planned for, he soon has the thing wailing.]

* * *

**Chapter 29**

[Murray, barely controlling his sorrow at Cantus's death, empties pockets of musical instruments and sets them aside so that their voices will not be silenced. He looks at the glowing zigzag in his palm for a long moment. Then he picks up the Fraggle and carries him to the stream. As he steps in he slips, and both flop into the water. The supposedly-dead Cantus splutters.]

Murray: _Guano!_ Sorry, the stone was slick.

[Both get out of the water. People rush in with towels and blow-dryers to dry wet fur for the next take. Janken, holding a clapper and looking weepy, steps into frame.]

Janken: Please let them get it on the next take. This is killing me. [sniffles]

* * *

Fraggle Rock and all characters except Janken, Tarin, and Clio are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken, Tarin, Clio, and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9 at aol dot com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.


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